Try
by MiseryMaker
Summary: Post "Doctor in the Photo" fic. No matter how dark it gets and no matter how many times they screw it up, it's never too late. Not when two people are really in love.
1. Chapter 1

_**[A/N: I had no plans to write a post-"Doctor in the Photo" fic, but this new Natasha Bedingfield song just screams the truth for Bones and Booth to me.**_

_**If you haven't heard it yet, go listen to "Try." The lyrics are simple yet absolutely breathtaking. It's eerie the timing of this song's release. It's like it came out to soothe my Doctor-in-the-Photo-wearied soul. This song says so eloquently that no matter how dark it gets, no matter how many times they screw it up, it's never too late. **_

_**Not when two people are really in love.**_

_**I don't own Bones, and I don't own this song—except the copy I legally downloaded and can't stop playing over and over again.**_

_**I owe an incredible debt of gratitude to blindassasin. She took time **__**during her vacation**__** to read what I've written and provided thoroughly helpful suggestions and amazing moral support. She is terrific!] **_

**Try by Natasha Bedingfield**

_Don't throw it away just because it's broken  
'Cause anything can mend  
Don't call it a day just because the road's blocked  
Doesn't mean we're at the end  
If it's something you love, you don't leave it  
If it's something you care for, you keep it _

_It's never too far, it's never too late  
To tell someone "you're the only one"  
And even if it's hard, it's never goodbye  
If you love someone, then you try, try, try, try _

Chapter 1

Going back to work and pretending that her world had never shifted had been difficult. But she was so regimented about her daily and case-based routines that Temperance was able to move through her workdays without any undue attention from those around her. The fact that nobody seemed to notice that her heart had been crushed seemed to lessen the burden somehow.

Sure, she'd put an added distance between herself and all of them immediately. She'd done so after Zach left. It seemed only natural that she'd insulate herself further now that she'd done the unthinkable and professed her feelings for her partner. Booth was her rock. The uncomfortable distance between them now reminded her that allowing herself to grow attached to people was dangerous. She still cared for her friends and her co-workers, but it was almost as if they'd gotten close enough. They were already close enough to hurt her. She could interact with them and care for them and be cared for by them as things stood. Why let them move any closer? Look what had happened with Booth...

Just thinking his name reduced her to a silent wistfulness. Despite the fact that it was ingrained in her near-photographic memory, she'd replayed their conversation in his SUV hundreds of times. Her shock when he'd first reminded her that he loved Hannah still sent her reeling every time, but now when she tried to view what had unfolded between them objectively, she saw little things—the tick of Booth's jaw, the way he glanced away and blinked his eyes, his sincere offer to find someone to be there to help her, and the unsteadiness of his voice as he let her know that he couldn't be that person.

On the surface, his response had seemed abrupt and not very heartfelt. But upon reflection, she realized that he'd simply done the best he could given the circumstance. He'd tried to be kind to her while being faithful to the woman he loved. She couldn't be angry with him for that.

She knew now how very badly she'd hurt him the previous year. She now clearly understood his discomfort when she'd gone forward both before and after her return from Maluku pretending that they were the same friends they'd always been. She respected him now for the strength of character she'd underestimated. He'd been her friend despite his wounds, despite the pain it had caused him. He'd tried so hard to be her friend—for her sake and at great personal cost.

She felt weak by comparison. Pretending to be content with only Booth's friendship would certainly be difficult. Once she'd opened her heart wide enough to invite Booth in, she'd been left with too much hollow, empty space and nothing to fill it. Dealing with that emptiness was proving to be even harder than learning to survive without her parents and her brother. Nobody in her family had ever been as close to her heart as her partner had. None of them had impacted her as positively as he had. They'd wounded her with good intentions but by choice, but Booth had never tried to hurt her. He'd opened her eyes to possibilities and hope and love she'd never dreamed existed. He'd helped her make great strides in healing those old wounds. The fact that he did not rush to share those opportunities with her now didn't diminish her gratitude to him.

So she'd try to move on and be happy that at least one of them had found requited love and happiness. Booth certainly deserved both. Perhaps witnessing his success through the lens of her failure would provide some level of comfort to her in her loneliness. Perhaps knowing that Booth, a similarly scarred and imperfect person, had found happiness would bolster her own hopes for future peace and companionship. Perhaps she could learn to accept the fact that she'd experienced the anthropologically significant experiences of loving someone and of being loved in return even though those emotions hadn't been part of the traditional long-term committed sexual relationship.

She felt certain that their friendship would withstand this storm. She was going to do everything she could to support Booth and to try to be genuinely happy for his happiness.

She loved him. She knew that she loved him now more than ever.

TRY… TRY… TRY… TRY… TRY… TRY… TRY… TRY… TRY… TRY… TRY… TRY…

Precisely three afternoons after Booth had saved her from the car that almost killed her and after she'd confessed her love and heard that he couldn't respond to it, Hannah had dropped by her office unexpectedly.

Brennan cringed internally. She'd ached for more time to compose herself and to adapt to her revised expectations before dealing with the object of Booth's affections. She'd planned to avoid both of them for weeks, if possible. Sadly, she realized that she'd have to do this the hard way.

"Hello, Hannah," she said with as large a smile as she could muster when she heard her new friend knock on the door to her office.

"Hi, Temperance," Hannah said softly, taking the greeting as an invitation to enter the space. "How's your day?"

Temperance called upon her self-discipline and spoke frankly and with enthusiasm so as to evoke the image of one who was perfectly at ease, "I'm fine. Working on a set of Civil War remains. I enjoy the challenge of trying to determine which army the soldier joined and reviewing the other records to find out if he had brothers who also died in that war. On occasion, I've encountered remains of two brothers buried together in uniforms of the opposing armies. Fascinating, wouldn't you agree?"

"Much of your work is fascinating, Temperance. I envy you the fact that you can apply your passion in so many diverse ways—chasing the bad guys with Booth in the field, interrogating suspects, examining the evidence, writing books and traveling."

"As we've discussed on several occasions, your job affords many similar experiences and opportunities. I would not be as adept at reaching an audience to inform them about current events and news stories. You have a talent for taking your listeners and readers directly to the heart of the matter. I admire that capability."

"Thank you, Temperance. We should form a mutual admiration society or something. Seeley can be a charter member."

Brennan bristled at the suggestion for reasons she chose not to voice, "I think that our brilliance and success and our support of one another's excellence need not be anchored to any man—even to one as admirable as Booth."

"Point well taken."

"Was there a reason that you came by, Hannah? I don't mean to be rude, but I do have a significant amount of work to do here at the office."

"Yes, there was a reason. I was wondering if you've talked to my boyfriend today. He's been extremely quiet and distant since you guys finished the case a few days ago, and I can't seem to shake him out of his mood."

Only with extreme care was Brennan able to hide her discomfort. "I haven't spoken with him today. Booth often rallies soon after a dark mood hits. I find that it's best to let him work through what's troubling him. He will recover more quickly that way. I wouldn't worry about him."

"Thanks for the advice. I do trust your judgment, but I am worried about him. Something has been... different... this week. Would you mind checking in on him? Did something happen on the case? I thought you guys wrapped it up."

Temperance swallowed almost imperceptibly before speaking. Her mouth was exceedingly dry, "I'm sure that Booth would resent it if I checked up on him."

"Well, why don't you join us tonight at Founding Fathers for a drink? You two didn't have a chance to toast your latest case. If you don't mind me being there for your post-case ritual, I think we can team up on Seeley and cheer him up. It's almost the holidays. I hate to see him down this time of year."

Brennan tried repeatedly to avoid it, but she somehow found herself agreeing to have drinks with the man she loved and his lover. She knew that seeing Booth again would be terrifying and painful, and she suspected that having that meeting in front of Hannah was the worst possible idea. Yet, she had allowed the persuasive woman to convince her to join them for a drink. Even worse, she'd allowed Hannah to convince her to surprise Booth at the bar. Brennan had been too dumbfounded considering the possibility to respond before Hannah bolted from her office content with her plans.

One drink. She was leaving after one drink. She was his friend; she should help cheer him up. That's what friends do. She'd just have one drink and assure herself that he was fine. Then she'd pick up a bottle of something on the way home and dull her own heartache in private.


	2. Chapter 2

_**[A/N: Thank you so very much for the warm reception you offered this story! This won't be a terribly long story. Still not completely sure where it's headed, but I'm having fun following the muse.**_

_**I really am entirely nuts about the song that inspired this story. I had no time and was focused on other things, but the song nudged (actually shoved) me to write this one.**_

_**I wish I had a better way to let you all know how much blindassasin helped with this story. Her suggestions were magical and transformative and amazing!]**_

Chapter 2

**Another marvelous excerpt from "Try" by Natasha Bedingfield. **

_Don't jump the train just because it's not moving  
Doesn't mean you're on the wrong track  
I'll always remain even if the wind blows  
Just, please, remember that  
If it's something you love, you don't leave it  
If it's something you care for, you keep it _

_It's never too far, it's never too late  
To tell someone "you're the only one"  
And even if it's hard, it's never goodbye  
If you love someone, then you try, try, try_

Across town, a clearly disgruntled Seeley Booth stomped out of the Hoover Building and over to his SUV in the parking garage. Today had been hell. Who was he kidding? He'd been in hell since he had seen that car racing toward Bones a few nights ago. He was weighed down with the knowledge that she might have died right there before him. If he hadn't gotten there in time... That thought alone had been enough to terrify him, but he couldn't sleep that night or any night since because every time he closed his eyes, he heard her sobbing—Bones had literally been sobbing about missing her chance with him. For a long time he'd dreamed of her coming to him and declaring such feelings and the two of them ending up finally being together. He had never in his wildest, freakiest, darkest moments considered that she might say and do what she'd done that night. She'd given him her "gut" reasons for what happened to that doctor, for God's sake. She'd been channeling him—going on instinct, declaring her feelings, breaking his heart all over again—this time for her pain. How the hell was he supposed to process all that?

He was literally stuck in hell. He could have told Hannah the truth, and he probably should have. He felt guilty that he hadn't told Hannah that he'd been out tracking Bones that night because he was afraid she'd do something dangerous just to try to understand the doctor whose death they were investigating. Hannah had been genuinely worried about Bones, too. But something had held him back that night and now, because of what happened afterward, that whole night out seemed like cheating on her somehow. So his head was full of Hannah-guilt and Bones-worry. No wonder every call he'd made at work and every interrogation he'd attempted had gone badly.

As he turned on the ignition of the Sequoia and drove toward the parking garage exit, Booth's thoughts kept rewinding and dragging him back through his crappy day and his worry-filled week. Just before noon, Sweets had barged into his office and noted his consistent foul mood. Without saying a word to him, Booth had forcibly removed the man from his office with only a glare to let him know to keep his scrawny preadolescent butt out of his workspace. Sweets had stood there outside the locked door trying to understand what was troubling him. Booth had pretended that he didn't notice his presence.

Booth had really had half a mind to just tell him—he figured that hearing that Bones regretted missing her shot with him and that he'd turned her down would sure as hell shut Sweets up. He couldn't talk to Sweets or anyone else about the hell he was in. Like everything else he could remember, this current crises was just 'between them." Talking to anyone else about it would be wrong. He couldn't even talk to Hannah about this. He owed Bones her privacy; she'd never denied him his own.

Bones was his closest friend, and he was incapable of helping her. At least she'd left him and run halfway around the world after she'd trampled on his heart. She was stuck there, working with him, faced with seeing him and Hannah... He wasn't just pitying himself. He was aching with worry and sadness for his friend.

He was trying his damnedest to ignore the way his heart was still hurting from her words and her tears. He felt as if he'd betrayed her. He'd told her love was worth it. He'd promised her he'd feel the same way about her for forever. He still did. He always would. But he knew that she didn't know that. If he had to guess, he'd say she was probably convinced that he now had no feelings for her beyond friendship. She's always tried to show him evidence that love couldn't last. He hadn't dissuaded her by moving on and by telling her she'd been too late.

As much as he wanted to prove to her that love did last, he couldn't tell her how deeply he still loved her—not when he had told her he loved another woman. He couldn't dangle his feelings for her out there. Bones was tough but he didn't want to hurt her any further. So even though he knew she felt like he'd rejected her, he said nothing. She deserved a chance to heal and move on. That's what he'd done. He'd found someone else. He wasn't settling. He loved Hannah...

He really did love Hannah. And Parker was crazy about her. His life was working out better than he'd hoped. Well, far better than he ever expected after Bones turned him down. His life was on a good path now, and he wanted it to continue. He had a great girlfriend, a job he loved, a son he was proud of, and... His mind had automatically inserted his partner in that list. He sighed. He knew Bones was still his friend—probably still his best friend.

He also knew that she'd be fine. He suspected that it might even hurt a bit to watch how quickly she'd rebound and get over him… over them. Even if that happened, he really wanted her to be okay. He wanted her to be happy. He wanted Bones to bounce back. He wanted her to... Hell, he did _**not**_ want her to end up with some other guy. He knew it was selfish, but even in his head he could not pretend that he actually wanted to sit by and watch her fall in love with someone else. He had convinced himself that there just wasn't anyone worthy of deserving Bones. He wanted only the best for her. And she had lousy taste in men. Men who weren't him. He had no doubt that she'd do so—she'd move on. Just look at him... he never thought he'd find happiness with anyone else but Bones but he had. She'd move on and forget all about her momentary pain over missing her chance with him. His heart physically ached with that thought.

_**Dammit! **_This was precisely what was wrong. Here he was, happy in his life, thrilled with his girlfriend, and yet thoughts of Bones were plaguing him. He knew something about that had to be inappropriate. But he couldn't stop thinking about her and worrying about her—not since the other night. It was terrible to be worried about her and not be able to do something about it. He'd considered calling her or taking her something to eat about three dozen times over the last three days, but he hadn't been able to do it. Part of him wasn't sure he could handle seeing her hurting and not reach out to try to make it better. The other part worried that she wasn't hurting anymore at all.

Either way, he didn't know how to reach out to her without dancing over a line that now had been painfully reinforced. He couldn't do that to Bones. He had to give her some time, and then he'd be able to be there for her. He needed that time, too. Truthfully, her confession had thrown him off more than a bit. Even though he was with Hannah and wouldn't ever consider cheating on her—not even with Bones, Bones' painful words and tears had ripped part of him open again. She was now where he'd been—and he knew all too well that she was in a really scary, sad, lonely place. It was only normal for him to want to comfort her, right?

The day's swirling cacophony of traffic did nothing to improve Booth's rotten move. Three jerks had cut in front of him on the short drive. He'd been sorely tempted to arrest at least one of them.

The only thing stopping him was his race to the bar to meet Hannah. He sighed. That's just what he needed—a few stiff drinks to take the edge off and then time alone with Hannah so that they could both indulge in taking everything else off. He couldn't allow his worry about Bones to distract him from being a good—no, a great—boyfriend for Hannah. He'd have a few drinks, seduce his girlfriend, say a prayer for his friend, and fall asleep. He was tired, but he was going to try to ditch his lousy mood. Life was too short. He was determined to make the most of the time he could spend with the woman he loved that night.

TRY… TRY… TRY… TRY… TRY… TRY… TRY… TRY… TRY… TRY… TRY… TRY…

As he entered the bar, he spotted Hannah through the crowd immediately. She was over on the left of the room, sitting at the bar, and talking to someone on her left. Smiling, Booth made a mad dash toward her, eager to immerse himself in catching up with the woman he loved and leaving her with no doubt about the fact that he was counting the minutes until they were in bed—or at least inside the door of his apartment...

Not caring if he were being rude, Booth sidled up beside his girlfriend silently, and, all in one motion, he wrapped his right arm around her waist and pulled her body flush against his, ignoring her squawk of surprise as her body was nearly dragged off the barstool without warning. As he leaned in to turn her face toward his to kiss her, he caught a glimpse of her companion and nearly had a stroke. It sure felt like he'd had a stroke or a coronary or something else horrible. Because Bones was sitting there, staring at him without revealing any emotion, her eyes the only part of her beautiful face betraying her pain. Thrown off completely, his forward progress carried him into the bar where he crashed painfully into the hardwood with his ribs. Landing with an oompf, he staggered upright and grasped at Hannah to make sure she didn't fall and injure herself. He handled the whole debacle as well as he could but he still looked like a clumsy oaf.

"Seeley, what the hell?" Hannah said loudly, her expression clearly showing her disapproval for the way he was jostling her around.

"Sorry," he stammered, blushing in embarrassment in front of both of them. He'd almost mauled Hannah in front of Bones. God, he was an idiot of epic proportions. The pain in his ribs seemed appropriate given the fact that he'd almost flaunted his relationship in his partner's face the very next time he'd seen her.

Despite the pain he'd seen flicker in her eyes, Bones rallied and spoke quickly to diffuse the tension and to tease her partner. "Booth has an exceptional sense of balance. It is rare to see him so clumsy and not steady on his feet. It appears that he may literally be falling for you Hannah." Hannah laughed and nodded while Booth narrowed his eyes at his partner. He'd give her a wide berth, but she'd better not get snippy. He warned her wordlessly to let sleeping dogs lie. Of course, she'd have a field day with that expression. He could just hear it now, "What else would sleeping dogs do, Booth, the Muchongoyo dance from Zimbabwe?"

Still thrown off by his partner's presence and his own idiocy upon recognizing it, Booth asked for a drink, grabbed it as soon as the bartender poured it and tossed it back quickly. "Whoa there soldier," Hannah said with a glance that told him she was worried about him. "Slow down. Temperance and I were waiting for you, so we haven't even had a drink yet."

"No problem, I'll have another one with you guys," Booth said, motioning the bartender over for a round. They each ordered a drink, and then sat quietly for a long moment. To try to dispel the awkwardness evident to anyone near the three of them, Hannah said something about how she hoped they didn't mind her intruding on their post-case drink ritual. But before either of them could respond, she leaned forward and whispered. "Oh. My. God. That's Senator Martinson with his girlfriend. I've got to get a closer look!"

And without another word, Hannah had grabbed her purse and rushed over to a dark corner of the bar to spy on the congressman, leaving the partners alone for the first time since Bones had held her heart out to Booth.

"Hey, Bones," Booth said with a friendly smile as he sat down on the barstool Hannah had vacated so abruptly.

"Hey," she said, taking a relatively large gulp of her wine as if to steady herself.

"So let me guess...," Booth said shaking his head. "Hannah dragged you out here with us."

"While she did not literally have to "pull me with great difficulty" since I walked here on my own, she did drag me here metaphorically. She wanted us to surprise you and cheer you up."

Booth paused mid-drink and then lowered his glass. Then he swallowed hard. Hell, this was awkward. No way he was going to talk to Bones about why Hannah might think he would need cheering up. Nope. Not happening.

Sensing his discomfort and not wanting him to say anything that would make things more awkward, Brennan spoke quickly, "I must confess that I was so surprised that she talked me into coming that I forgot to tell her that we didn't officially solve the case. If I had, I might have been able to get out of coming this evening," she confided in that brutally honest way only Bones could do.

"You solved the case, Bones. The important part, anyway." When she paused and looked down, he ached for her. "You gave that doctor her name and her voice back. I know we haven't found the driver yet, but we will. And then you'll be able to put him behind bars for burying her."

"Do you think we'll really be able to find the driver?" she asked, eager to keep the conversation focused on safe topics.

"Yeah. We've got a good shot. Hodgins can estimate the damage to the car. We've got that reflector. You'll figure something out, Bones. You always do."

"We always do," she said with a smile that nearly faltered.

"Yeah, Bones. That we do," he said, clinking his glass with hers and leaning over to nudge her shoulder with his own in that familiar way that usually comforted both of them. It didn't. She glanced at him briefly and then stared at the bottom of her wineglass for a long moment.

_Screw it_, he decided. This was Bones. He couldn't help it. He had to ask.

"You holding up okay, Bones?" he asked, wincing in anticipation of her response.

"I'm fine, Booth. But I do appreciate your asking," she said in a quiet voice that nearly broke his heart. "I just realized that it has been three days since I last saw you. Indeed, three days is long enough for the body to adapt to new conditions. I fear, however, that the heart requires a bit more time."

"That it does, Bones," he said, leaning over to whisper to her. "I'm really sorry about tonight. Just text me if you get roped into anything else like this you don't feel like doing. I'll get you out of it."

"Thanks, Booth."

"Don't mention it, partner." He'd hoped the endearment would be encouraging, but he stiffened when he saw Bones tear up.

Brennan blinked quickly to stop the tears that were accumulating from spilling over.

As if on cue, a clueless Hannah rushed up and sat on the barstool next to Booth. "What'd I miss? Secret partner handshake? I know you guys have one."

Amused with his girlfriend's silliness, Booth shook his head and stood up, this time intentionally pulling Hannah up and off the barstool. "It's been a long day, Hannah. You know, Bones was too polite to tell you that we didn't actually solve the murder, so you planned this celebration a bit prematurely."

"Oh... I...," the now nervous blonde stammered. Something was off. She'd clearly interrupted something when she'd returned to the bar. Booth was trying hard to get her out of there. She looked at Temperance, wondering if perhaps she really were still suffering long-term effects from the case that had upset her.

"Don't feel badly about it, Hannah. You were acting out of concern for Booth. I share your desire that he be happy. It was no inconvenience to be here." Her words pulled on Booth's heartstrings. Hannah was the only one who couldn't see how she was lying to make them both feel better.

He watched as the two women spoke for a moment. Bones was genuinely smiling at something Hannah said to her. Bones really was amazing sometimes. Make that most of the time.

"Have a great evening," Brennan said, turning to look in her purse for her credit card.

Smiling at her encouragingly, Booth dropped a few bills on the bar, "I've got this one, Bones. You can treat next time, okay? See you soon."

"See you soon."

Brennan watched the happy couple make their way across the bar. She knew it was counterproductive to stare at them together, but she couldn't seem to drag her gaze away. Hannah was telling a story, and Temperance watched as Booth laughed at something she said. He's happy, she reminded herself. But as her eyes met her partner's as he glanced back at her before ducking out of the bar, she wondered if he were truly as happy as he insisted he was.

She knew that she was just hoping for a problem where one didn't exist to suit her own selfish purposes. Maybe it had just been sympathy on his face. But that wide open, empty heart of hers felt a little fuller just knowing he cared for her enough to glance back and let her know that he was still worried about her pain.


	3. Chapter 3

_**[A/N: Happy New Year! May this year bring you as many smiles as your reviews and alerts have brought to me! **_

_**The first several paragraphs of this chapter are genius provided by blindassasin. She's amazing. Setting the scene? So not my forte. ;)**_

_**Although I do not now, have never, and will never own or have any connection to Bones or Fox, I would LOVE to see part of this happen on TV (The part that's supposed to be amusing-not the typical angsty stuff.)]**_

Chapter 3

Curled brittle winter leaves dusted with ice covered the narrow pathway they were following on their way to the field. Temperance appreciated the short-lived crunching sound they made as her heavy hiking boots crushed them underfoot. December had made way for January. The air was colder, the wind a little more fierce and heavy snow was forecast for later that day. They had to be quick or risk being stranded in the middle of nowhere.

She and Booth had been sent out to recover a body in a field. It was the first time they had worked together since Christmas Eve. Both had taken vacation time over the Christmas holidays, and so far their being back together was working out fine. There didn't appear to be much residual awkwardness, if anything they were both happy to see each other and eager to get back to work.

As it turned out, the recovery of this body was extremely straightforward. Within an hour of arriving they were back on the road and discussing the possibility of stopping somewhere to grab a bite to eat because they'd worked straight through lunch. As she realized that they were near the assisted living facility where Pops lived, Temperance suggested, "You should call your grandfather, Booth. Perhaps he'd be interested in eating with us."

"That's really thoughtful, Bones. Are you sure you wouldn't mind taking the extra time to pick him up? I haven't seen Pops since the holidays. I'd love to see him."

"I always enjoy spending time with Hank," she replied. Her heart clenched. Hank Booth had always treated her with such and openness and evoked the same from her. She suspected he was much like the grandparents she didn't remember having would have been. Of course her enthusiasm about seeing him was dampened by her memories of how he'd always meddled in things between Booth and her. Holding back a sigh, she hoped that perhaps he'd be less blunt and obtrusive now that he'd met Hannah and seen that Booth was happy.

Spending time apart during the holidays had been a good thing, Brennan now realized. She'd swallowed hard when he'd breezed into her office that morning looking relaxed and happy—the way he should have appeared after time off with his family for the holidays he enjoyed so thoroughly. He'd been sporting a new scarf—one that matched the new wildly striped socks he'd been wearing. She'd sighed realizing that she knew most of his wardrobe and that she could detect subtle changes very quickly. Like so many other things, she supposed that would change over time. Seeing Booth less often would naturally leave her less acquainted with his clothing and with other details about him. Sadly, she was not yet at a point at which she'd stopped paying close to every detail about him. He was also wearing a new aftershave that must have been a gift from Hannah. While it was a pleasing olfactory stimulant, it didn't fit with her memories of him. It was a little too much like cologne—not the simple, clean, entirely masculine scent she associated with her partner.

Booth made the call and was not surprised when Pops agreed readily to an outing. As he slipped the phone into his pocket, he snuck a quick glance at Bones. She looked a bit tired, but otherwise she looked good. Only Bones could look beautiful after spending time elbow deep in dead bodies. "Pops sounds excited about getting out for a while. Thanks for the suggestion, Bones."

"You're welcome. How is his health?"

"Pops likes to live on the wild side, but I think he's taking his meds. I slipped his favorite nurse a few bills to encourage her to pay close attention to him. I call her to check in on him. Last week she told me that apparently his new girlfriend demands that he take his medication, so he's being even better about it. Something about not wanting him to die on her while they're crocheting."

"Crocheting? I find it surprising that your grandfather would choose a hobby so traditionally acknowledged as female. Also, I don't understand why his girlfriend would assume that crocheting would cause any detrimental impact upon him; it's quite a sedentary activity."

"Bones, crocheting… You know, nevermind. Let's just go pick Pops up and take him out on the town. Any idea where you want to eat? It needs to be a place where Pops can get some good old-fashioned American food. He'll balk at vegetarian or anything too radical. He didn't even like Wong Fu's. Can you believe that?"

"He's just set in his ways. The older one gets, the less inclined he or she is to enjoy change. Instead of thriving upon it as one was accustomed, change tends to frighten people… older people." She stumbled there at the end, realizing that she had just been mentally bemoaning the tiniest of changes she'd just noticed about her partner.

"Maybe there's a diner nearby. Or maybe a buffet place. I know that's not your kind of thing, Bones, but maybe just this time? Just for Pops?" he asked pulling out one of his most persuasive charm smiles.

The smile had not been needed. She'd already decided that she'd eat wherever Hank wanted. Her capacity to adapt for the Booth men seemed endless. She smiled and mumbled some form of acceptance to Booth.

Suddenly emotional, she turned to look out the window. She reminded herself that adapting to missing seeing more of Booth was just another way she could prove to him how much she loved him and wanted him to be happy. She knew that she could do this. She could do anything. She'd do anything for him. She just had to try.

TRY… TRY… TRY… TRY… TRY… TRY… TRY… TRY… TRY… TRY… TRY… TRY…

Brennan waited in the car as Booth jogged inside to meet his grandfather. She closed her eyes and meditated, yearning to find the strength to genuinely enjoy her time with this dear man who'd immediately felt like part of her nontraditional family. She didn't want to show any signs of the damage so recently done to her heart. She knew that Hank was acutely perceptive. She hoped that he'd be so happy to see them that he wouldn't notice or that he'd notice her predicament quickly and leave her alone to spare her pain.

She was still sitting there with her eyes closed when her door to the SUV was wrenched open and the unwelcomed frosty air filled the cabin.

"Come here and give an old man a hug," Hank demanded with his arms wide open.

Smiling at him sincerely, Temperance slipped off the seat and into the warm, waiting arms of her friend.

"It's good to see you, Hank," she whispered as she held onto him tightly.

"You're a sight for sore eyes, Doc. And Linda's getting jealous. She's watching from the window across the courtyard over there. Would you consider making out with me a bit? It would drive her crazy."

Temperance laughed loudly and held onto him more tightly. Booth was not amused.

"Getting old stinks, people. You and Squirt just wait. You'll still feel young and beautiful when you're my age. You just need meds, twice as much time and a good dose of lady luck to get any real action."

"Pops!" Booth exclaimed, causing the older man to shake his head.

"I think I sheltered him too much or something. Healthy, strong man like him should be all for talking about sex, having sex, having lots of sex. And he blushes like a schoolgirl at mere suggestion."

"He is quite prudish, Hank. I'm afraid the damage is permanent. I haven't been able to help him curb those tendencies."

"If he didn't have Parker, I'd swear he was gay.

Booth decided to shut that line of conversation down fast, "I am NOT gay. I am not talking about my sexual preferences with either of you or with anyone else. Get over it. End of discussion. Pops, get in the car before you two burn the ears off of people's grandkids coming to visit, okay?"

Sensing Booth's discomfort, Brennan turned back to face Hank as Booth pulled out of the parking lot. "He and Hannah seem to have an extremely active sex life, Hank. I am certain that Hannah can assure you that Booth is not gay. She seems quite satisfied with his capabilities."

"Bones! I swear, every time I get the two of you together, it's dangerous. It's 2 o'clock in the afternoon, for God's sake, can't three adults go out to eat lunch without everything turning porny?"

"Those of us not getting any… or not getting enough… talk about it, Seeley. Just because you and Barbie are rolling around in the hay doesn't mean that the rest of us aren't looking for outlets for our sexual frustration."

"Jeez, Pops! Good thing Parker's not here to listen to all this."

"Parker's a good kid. Doesn't get all squirrelly talking about sex."

"_**You've**_ been talking to Parker about sex?"

"Hey, he knows you'd flip out on him if he brought it up…."

"Pops, I'm his dad, I…."

"Relax, Squirt. I told him to be a good Catholic boy. I set him straight. Told him about how to be safe but that he should wait until he falls in love with someone so hard that he can't breathe without her before he even considers having sex with her."

"Oh. Okay. That sounds okay."

Booth was still processing that information when his partner interjected, "That's excellent advice. I also told Parker about the diseases he would risk catching if he were to engage in unprotected intercourse. He seems well informed and eager to be responsible."

"_**You've**_ talked to Parker about sex?" Booth squawked as he stared at his partner in disbelief. He was dumbfounded.

"Booth, he came to me with clinical questions. I don't treat Parker like a child. I was honest with him."

"You could've let me know about that, Bones. I mean… I trust you… But I'm his dad. I didn't have any idea he was asking all these questions."

"Well, he was inevitably going to become curious with you and Hannah locking the door to the bedroom and taking showers together while he's there at the apartment…."

"Bones," Booth whispered, asking her nonverbally to stop the conversation and save it for another time.

"He's very inquisitive and handled the information very maturely. I have to agree with Hank, Parker seems to understand the wisdom of waiting until he's older and in love to have intercourse. He seemed to understand the concept of abstinence more clearly after he learned that you and I had not engaged in coitus."

"Wait! You and Parker… talked about you and me… and sex?"

"Only in the abstract, of course. Parker was looking for perspective about your relationship with Hannah. He asked me if you and I had… become intimate… since we were so close. I explained to him that we were partners and friends and that, while we were very close, we had not engaged in more than a few simple experimental kisses."

Booth swerved the car over onto the side of the road and threw it into park. Forgetting all about Pops sitting in the back seat, he turned to his partner. "Bones, you told Parker that we kissed? Why the hell would you do that?"

"He was curious, Booth. He said he'd noticed the way that you often placed your hand on my back or threw an arm around my shoulder. He knew how much time we used to spend together. He said that we looked like a couple… before you started dating Hannah. He was worried that you'd dumped me to start dating her or that she'd intervened and caused you to cheat. I set him straight."

"Your son admires you and wants to emulate you. I would do nothing to detract from that admiration. Knowing you as I do, I felt bound to be honest and tell him how loyal and trustworthy you are when it comes to dealing with women. I could not stand to see him doubting your commitment to the woman you love."

"Bones," Booth said softly, looking up at her with admiration and empathy. "Thanks."

Booth tilted his head a bit and stared at her for a long moment. Then, without another word, he put the car back into drive and pulled back out on the highway. Given the intensity of their earlier conversation, the drive to the diner was quiet.

TRY… TRY… TRY… TRY… TRY… TRY… TRY… TRY… TRY… TRY… TRY… TRY…

They entered the diner, and Brennan informed them that she needed to visit the restroom. Booth and his grandfather sat down in chairs opposite one another and pulled out their menus.

"You're an idiot, you know that, right?" Hank said as he turned his menu over.

"Pops, don't start, okay?" Booth didn't want another repeat of their post-holiday chat. Pops hadn't pulled any punches. He'd made it abundantly clear he'd thought Booth was making a huge mistake living with Hannah.

"You blew it. You've got the catch of a lifetime right there in your hands and you let her go for what… a Barbie doll?"

"Pops, Hannah is smart and successful and generous and considerate and good with Parker and in love with me. I love her. End of story. What do you want to eat?"

"Hannah's fine. She's presentable. She tried hard to win me over. I'm sure she's rocking your striped socks off in the sack. But you two… it's on the surface, Shrimp. You care about her, but she doesn't move you… not the way Temperance does. It's in your eyes… I saw it when you two were talking in the car, son. She's the one. You two are connected. Maybe you can't see it, but it's obvious to everyone around you. You're wasting your time with that Hannah chick."

The idea that his grandfather could see his feelings for his partner so clearly now rattled him seriously, "Pops, you're way out of line. Knock it off. Bones will be back any second."

"She'd agree with me. Why don't we ask her?"

"Knock it off, Pops! Leave Bones out of this. And you'd better get used to Hannah. She's sticking around. I might even marry her…."

Booth knew as soon as those words left his mouth that Bones had walked up behind him. He heard her suck in a breath painfully. He hadn't even been thinking of marriage—not in any constructive way. He'd just gotten carried away trying to defend what they shared to his grandfather. And doing so had caused Bones further pain. Grimacing and knowing better than to try to retract what he'd said, Booth heard Bones finally exhale and glared at Pops before turning to look at her.

Bones looked pale and as if she were trying desperately to compose herself. He watched as she straightened her spine and pasted on a false smile. Both Booth men stood as she stepped closer to the table. She was suddenly torn about where to sit. Should she sit next to Hank where she'd feel more comfortable? No, because then she'd be forced to look at Booth. Thinking about what he'd just said made her feel nauseated. She didn't think she could stand sitting across from him and pretending that she hadn't heard his words. She chose to sit in the chair Booth had just vacated and was relieved when his phone rang before he could sit down and he walked outside to take the call.

Hank had seen it. He had seen the flash of pain in the younger woman's eyes. She loved his grandson. He'd always thought she hadn't quite figured it out, but that look on her face told him more than he needed to know. His grandson might be an idiot, but he wasn't. Hank's mind raced as he considered how he could do damage control.

"I really missed seeing you at Christmas, Doc. I kept expecting you to pop up and visit."

"I was at my brother's house visiting with my family," Temperance said quietly.

"Well, I hope you had a nice time. We all ate too much and reminisced about the good old days before I had to have nurses watching me take my meds. Parker had a great time. He's starting to win more and more of the games we play. It won't be long before he's challenging us to poker games and taking all our money."

"Surely Booth won't condone his son initiating a gambling habit at such a young age…."

"No, he won't. Poor choice of words. Seeley's cleaned up his act, you know. He's solid now. No gambling. He's as upstanding as they come."

Her heart ached remembering Booth telling her about his gambling problem so long ago. He'd reached out to her, made that gesture; it was further evidence that her fears had caused her to miss out on too many chances she'd had to get closer to her partner, "You don't need to sell me on your grandson, Hank. I agree with you, Booth's an extraordinary man," she paused as if considering her next words carefully. Somehow the expression on Hank's face encouraged her to keep talking, "Hannah's lucky to have him."

"The blonde? What do you really think of her, Temperance? Is she good enough for him? Does she really love him?"

"Hannah is intelligent, successful, amusing, and very much in love with Booth. He's lucky to have her."

"I'm not so sure you're right this time, Temperance. She doesn't make his eyes light up from so deep down that it comes from his soul. She doesn't finish his sentences perfectly even though it's not the way he ever intended. He doesn't seek her approval or her insight—not the way he does with you."

"Hank, don't be preposterous. Booth and I are just partners."

"Cut the crap, Doc. I saw your face before when the kid was blustering about marrying the blonde. He's talking too much. He's telling himself it's what he wants. It's not. I know him."

"I won't sit here with you and disparage Hannah. We should support him. Neither one of us should betray Booth that way."

"See that? That right there? That's it, sweetheart! You're defending him and being loyal to him even when he's squawking about marrying a woman who doesn't move him half the way you do."

"Move him? I move him?"

Just after Brennan spoke, Booth rushed up to the table bent on interfering with whatever mischief Pops was making. He moved to sit down and Hank slipped to the outside chair so that Booth would have to sit next to Brennan. Booth started to sit in the chair next to his partner, and Hank put out a hand to stop him. "Go take a leak."

"Excuse me?" Booth said, perplexed by his grandfather's crass words in front of a lady. Hank was the reason Booth attempted to be a gentleman at all times. He'd learned from his grandfather how to behave around women.

"You heard me. Scram. Make yourself scarce. Didn't they teach you how to read people at the Academy, son? I'm telling you for your own good to leave us alone here for a minute—for two or three."

"Pops, Bones doesn't…."

"Go, Booth," Brennan whispered, imploring him to listen and to leave.

Shaking his head and knowing that it was a mistake, Booth walked across the restaurant to the restroom. He looked back over his shoulder at them several times before disappearing from sight.

As soon as Hank could tell from Brennan's expression that Booth was gone, he spoke quickly, "Meeting my wife was the scariest thing in the world. I tried several times to talk myself out of it. It is hard for a man to willingly turn over control of anything—especially his heart—to another woman. It's harder for Seeley than most. He used to gamble, and he needs to be in control to deal with that and the things he's done as a soldier. His dad beat the crap out of him so many times that I swear that kid hasn't lost control of anything since the last time his dad smacked him around-except to gamble and to follow orders from the army."

He watched the emotion and concern flood her features before getting to his main point, "She's no threat to his control. He can control their environment, the extent to which she affects him, even the amount of self control he has to risk to be with her. He wants to be with her because she is easy to be with and she's no threat to his happiness or his control. She's not going to push him to be serious—she doesn't cling. She adapts to her surroundings and then she moves on."

"You are a direct threat to his heart and to his sanity. He can't control you—he doesn't even try. Even though he might not get it yet, you are what he needs. In you, he could lose himself completely and find true happiness. He wouldn't always have to be in control because he'd have you to turn to and to help him when he felt threatened or weak. You'd be what he's been missing all these years, Temperance. You're exactly what he needs."

Unbidden, tears flowed down her cheeks. Oh how she wanted Hank's words to be true. Only it was selfish of her to wish anything but happiness for Booth and Hannah.

Hank was going to lay it all out for her while he had the time, "The kid hasn't seen a healthy relationship. He's only seen the damage that loving someone completely can do. My dear wife was gone long before he was old enough to see us together and happy. But we were like you two. She rocked my world from day one, and I was never happier than when I felt out of control and completely at the mercy of her heart. Don't give up just because he's over there living what looks like the life he wants."

He paused, hating the tears he was causing her to shed but knowing that she was strong enough to withstand whatever he told her. He hoped he'd inspire her to act, to take a chance on his grandson, to do something to convince Seeley to change his course, "He called me after whatever happened with you two, you know. He didn't say much, but he sounded really sad and lost. He was miserable. He said he couldn't talk to Hannah about it. If he loved her enough, he'd tell her—they'd survive it. What he won't survive is missing out on a chance with you."

"What am I supposed to do, Hank? Why are you telling me all of this? I don't understand what any of this means. Booth's with Hannah. I missed my chance with him. I need him, so I'll be his friend. I appreciate your concern, but what you're proposing just isn't possible."

"He'll be back any minute. Wipe your tears and put on that strong front you always hide behind. And then watch him. Watch his eyes. When he comes back to this table, you'll see everything you need to see in the way that he looks at you."

Shaking her head miserably, she took his handkerchief and wiped her tears as he'd directed. She took a sip of water and cleared her throat. She sat up straight and put on the mask she so often wore. And then she waited. She didn't have the fortitude to look up and watch Booth walk toward her. But she felt his arrival more than if she'd seen him coming toward her.

"Bones, you okay?" he asked, forgetting completely about the fact that he was supposed to keep his distance.

"Pops, what the hell did you say to her?" Booth growled. At that very moment, Temperance looked up and into the eyes of her partner. When her eyes met his, he swallowed hard, and the anger fell away from his expression. Hank had been right. Those warm brown eyes shifted slightly in a way she'd seen them do before. There was a depth and a heat and a concern for her in them that warmed her from the inside out. How she could have gone for years not realizing or accepting how he felt about her, she had no idea.

Forgetting all the reasons why he shouldn't, Booth sat down beside her, threw an arm around her shoulder, and pulled her close. Unable to help herself, she melted into his embrace, tucking her face into the side of his strong, warm neck, and holding onto him tightly.

"Dammit, Pops. You have no right to meddle. Leave her the hell alone."

Turning to his partner, Booth squeezed her tightly and then pulled her back from him so that he could look into her eyes. He saw it—her raw pain, her longing for him, his own emotions mirrored in her tortured expression. "Bones…," he whispered, crinkling his eyebrows and straining not to let his expression falter. He hated seeing her pain, her fear, her desire to hide both from him. He leaned closer and whispered, trying to keep their conversation as private as possible, "Bones, I… I know it isn't easy. And I know we haven't talked…. Pops didn't mean to… he didn't know."

It was all Hank could do not to interrupt and correct his grandson, but he refused to spoil the moment.

"Are you happy now, Pops?" Booth started to bark at his grandfather, but he stopped cold when Bones put her hand upon his arm. He was thrown back in time to that afternoon in the cemetery when she'd touched him that way—so gentle, so supportive, so full of emotion. "He meant well, Booth. Don't be angry with Hank. He loves you."

Dumbstruck by her words and the fact that they had echoed with the fact that she loved him, too, Booth sat and stared at her for a long moment. She cleared her throat and suggested that she needed to get back to the lab. She pointed out the obvious—that nobody had ordered anything and that she was no longer hungry.

Not trying hard to hide his frustration, Booth drove them all back to the senior citizen's facility. After taking a deep breath and remembering all the times Pops had cut him slack even when he'd said or done something stupid, he opened the door and walked around to escort his grandfather in. Booth stared at him silently warning him not to make any more missteps as Pops whispered his goodbyes and his apologies to his partner. After Hank climbed out of the SUV, the men walked silently toward the door of the establishment and stopped just outside.

"It was really sweet of you and Temperance to stop by today. Sorry I spoiled our time together. Is… she's okay now, right? I can go back out and apologize again if you think it would help."

"Bones is fine, Pops. I know you meant well, but Bones and I talk about things—even difficult things. We don't need you to start conversations for us."

"Sorry, Shrimp. Trying to take care of you kids is a hard habit to break."

"I know, Pops. I know. I love you, too."

The men exchanged a manly hug and Booth turned to walk back to the car. As he drew near to it, his partner made eye contact with him and then quickly turned to look out the opposite window. She tried to pretend that she was fine. She knew better than to believe that Booth would fall for her façade.

He climbed quickly into the car but turned to look at her instead of starting the vehicle. As the first tear slipped down her cheek, Booth felt his heart crumble. "Don't cry, Bones. It's okay. It'll be okay," he said, reaching over and crushing her back into his arms and holding her tightly. "I'm so sorry, Bones. Please don't cry." He mumbled words of assurance to her and planted light, entirely supportive kisses in her hair, not realizing that every one sent a jolt through her that both thrilled and wounded her.

A few moments later, he let her slip far enough away so that he could look down at her. Seeing her in such torment simply broke his heart, "Bones…," he whispered, leaning down to kiss her forehead and then resting his upon hers. They stayed that way—foreheads touching and eyes closed as they let the essence of their connection comfort and ground both of them-for a long moment before Temperance pulled away to regain her composure and her independence.

Hank watched from the window in the atrium as the woman who loved his grandson pulled herself back together. He saw his grandson say something to her. She looked over at Seeley and smiled. He watched as the SUV disappeared into the distance and wondered if those two would ever figure out a way to let their relationship unfold and grow the way it seemed meant to do. He sure hoped so.


	4. Chapter 4

_**[A/N: Your reaction to that last chapter floored me. It frustrates me that even my "lite" chapters are loaded with angst. Maybe it's because I just can't imagine those two unearthing what's been exposed and not being ripped apart by it. **_

_**At least you know what you're in for here, right? The end is in sight. I'm thinking 7 chapters will do it.**_

_**I don't own Bones. I don't own "Try," but I hope you consider buying a copy and falling in love with it, too. ]**_

Chapter 4

Despite the fact that it was unseasonably warm very early the following morning, Brennan still felt chilled to the bone. She had tried desperately to get Hank's words out of her head all night, but they seemed to replicating themselves at such a high rate that her mind was literally filled with them. Hank knew Booth—perhaps better than she did. Could he be right? Could it be that Booth was denying his true feelings in order to feed his need for self control? Was Hannah a safer choice? Certainly. She didn't challenge Booth as often; she tried to glaze over their differences and adapt where she thought she could to be what he thought she needed. Hannah had confided to Brennan about her own insecurity about dealing with children. While Brennan had shared her trepidation in general, she'd ached when Hannah had spoken about how hard she'd had to try to reach Parker. Even though Brennan had met him at a younger, more malleable age, she'd always interacted with Parker naturally. It wasn't difficult to love and enjoy spending time with Parker. Not for her. It was just the natural extension of caring about his father.

As emotion threatened to shake her, Brennan banished it. She had work to do. She needed to move on. That outing with Hank had been a setback, but she could move past it. Booth knew that she was struggling. Hopefully he'd stay away and give her the time she needed—the time they both needed.

She took a calming breath and stood to head over to the platform to begin her examination hours before the first intern would arrive. She stopped still when she saw her partner standing silently in the doorway watching her.

Instinct forced words about work out of her before she fully registered his presence. She could tell by his posture that this was not a professional visit. Trembling internally, she pretended not to notice, "I haven't made much progress on the case, Booth. I'll call you when we identify the victim or discern cause of death."

"Okay."

She stared at him, disturbed by his silence and lack of movement. Neither was evidence of peace or contentment in her typically energetic partner. He looked up and decided to say what he'd hoped might help. "Look, Bones. I… I'm sorry for what Pops did yesterday. He's sorry, too, for upsetting you."

She did not want his pity or his sympathy. What she wanted from him was far more than she felt she had a right to demand. Faced with that immutable fact, she simultaneously wished for him to leave and wanted him to stay; however, she found that she could not request either.

Determined to keep her private matters private, she walked over and sat down on the sofa so that her back was toward the door. As if invited in, Booth closed the door behind him and walked over to sit down on the sofa beside her. Neither of them spoke for what seemed like a very long time. Temperance was the first to speak.

"Booth, I am trying to move on like you did. But I'm missing some key facts… some of the truth of what happened… or what could have happened. I am trying to catalogue my experiences anthropologically, and I think that if we discuss a few things, I'll be able to put this into perspective and move past it.

Booth just looked at her, trying to read her expression to clue him in about what she might be planning to say. He'd felt compelled to visit her even though he had no idea what to say or do once he'd gotten there and seen her. She'd been sitting there at her desk thinking about something painful. He had been just vain enough to assume that she'd been thinking about him… about them. His gut had told him to leave the moment she'd looked up at him with those eyes that gave him alone a gateway to her soul. But once they'd made eye contact, he'd known he had to stay and make sure she was okay. As always, Bones had been about four steps ahead of him. What he should have anticipated was the fact that she'd bombard him with requests for evidence that she should forget all about him. Sadly, he hadn't seen it coming.

Brennan took his silence for acquiescence and continued bluntly, "I know that you love Hannah. You've said before that you're 'in love' with her."

He nodded and swallowed hard, hating the pain he saw in her expression. She was silent for a long moment and then she turned to face him, her determination to get to the truth shining through the way it did when she was passionate about a case.

"Well, I've thought a great deal about everything—especially that conversation we had outside Sweets' office so long ago. We've been friends for years, Booth. We both care for and feel affection for and a deep bond with one another." He nodded, the tension around his eyes softening a bit as he stared into her beautiful, tear-filled eyes.

"I cannot understand how you felt back then. I can't reconcile what you said with what your actions have demonstrated that you felt or with what you've said you feel about Hannah. When you asked me to give things between us a shot, what did you want? Were you just bored? Had Sweets reactivated the affliction of your gambling addiction? Were you looking for a physical release to satisfy your long-ignored biological urges? What were you asking me, Booth? Because I have to conclude that you weren't asking me for a lasting relationship. The evidence indicates that you didn't love me—not the way you love Hannah."

"Bones… I..."

She interrupted. She couldn't bear listening to him tell her how much she meant to him in all the wonderful ways that just weren't quite enough anymore, "Okay… I know. You've taught me all that. There's more than one kind of family. We're family. You love me. I know you do. But you weren't 'in love' with me, right?"

He took her hand and leaned closer, imploring her with his eyes to listen to him. He could see it now. Bones thought she wasn't enough. She thought he couldn't love her. God, how that was possible given what he felt for her? But he couldn't tell her… not now… not when they'd already closed that door. It would be like twisting the knife in her wound. But to think that she might not know that anyone had cared for her that way...

"Bones, you trust me, right? I'm not trying to weasel out of anything. But… I've been where you're sitting, and I know… I know that there is no way that this conversation is going to help you. I'd do… I promise I'll do anything I can to help you get through this, but this conversation will only make things worse. Please don't ask me to talk to you—not about this… not now."

"I need to know the truth, Booth. You told Amy I had a mania for the truth years ago. The truth… all the facts… I need more-not just the fact that you're with Hannah and that she's not a consolation prize… I need more data to move past this."

He turned and placed his head in his hands and then rubbed his hands hard over his face, trying to decide what, if anything, he could to say to appease her and still avoid what she was asking. But this was Bones. He knew she wasn't going to give up until he told her the truth. Did he dare? Would she ever forgive him if he were honest with her?

Without looking up, he asked her as honestly as he knew how, "You really want the truth? Even if it will hurt—maybe more than what you already know?"

"Yes. I am not afraid of the truth. I want the facts—all of them."

Her words had pulled him up to face her. His heart clenched watching the set of her jaw try to camouflage the pain in her eyes. He spoke to her tenderly, hoping that she'd somehow change her mind so that he could run the hell out of her office, "You know that I don't want to do this, right? I don't want to hurt you any more, Bones."

"I know. Just tell me, Booth. Tell me the truth about how you felt." She knew that he thought she was just being brave and focused the way she typically was when searching for the truth. She hoped he couldn't tell that she was literally quivering with fear about what he might say and how those words might wound her. Would it be better to hear that he'd never felt as much for her as Hannah? She thought it doubtful, but she hurt just considering that he might conceivably say the opposite.

He looked over at her and then let his head hang down for a long moment. Then, closing his eyes and saying a prayer that his words would not end their partnership—or worse yet, their friendship, he turned to her and took her hand in his again. He squeezed her hand, marveling that it felt so warm and soft and relatively unfamiliar to him. Of course, he'd held her hand, taken it to help her up, yanked it to pull her out of harm's way, placed his upon it for Sweets' stupid partnership exercises, but he'd seldom just held it—not in the intimate way that he could have—probably should have-ages ago.

"Ask me what you want to know," he said, his expression and his words promising her that he'd tell her the truth no matter how much it hurt either of them.

As she watched her brave partner brace for the onslaught of her words, she swallowed and did the same. She told herself she needed to hear these words from him.

"Were you ever in love with me, Booth?"

He did not hesitate before speaking with intense emotion, "Bones… Temperance… I fell in love with you years ago."

She exhaled sharply, surprised by his words and uncertain how to handle them. She'd expected denial, a refusal to accept her and fall for her. This was not what she'd anticipated.

"Really?" was all she could croak out.

"I fell so hard and so fast for you that I didn't even see it happening. I loved everything about you—your smile, your temper, your eyes, your fierce loyalty, your stubborn refusal to admit that I was halfway competent at anything..."

One lonely tear slipped down her cheek, and he reached out to brush it away with his thumb. She felt scalded from the intimacy of that simple, heartfelt touch.

Pulling away as if burned, she asked her next question. "So this love… it passed. You moved on and fell in love with someone else. I told you love was ephemeral and fleeting… that nobody could promise to love anyone for one year… much less thirty or forty..."

He interrupted her. She had to know the truth. Painful as this would be, he had to set her straight about his feelings for her, "No, Bones. It didn't. What I felt… what I still feel for you… will not pass. I've never loved anyone… may never love anyone else the way I loved… the way I still love you. I didn't lie to you. I don't expect my feelings for you to pass. Even though it hurts, I really wouldn't want them to."

"But how…? Why…?"

"Look, if you're going to make me talk to you about this, then you need to know everything—all of it. I get to go back and tell you what I should have told you that night on the steps after we talked to Sweets."

He paused, asking her with his warm, intensely brown, concern-filled eyes to listen to him carefully, "Bones, you need to know that you have been loved as completely as it is possible to be loved by another person. When I asked you to give us a shot, I was trying to tell you that I loved you, Bones. That I knew… that I still know… that I will love you for as long as I live. I wasn't asking you to change. I didn't want you to change. I still don't. I just wanted a chance to prove to you that my love wasn't going to change. I fell in love with you—beautiful, stubborn, flawed, brilliant, successful, wounded, terrified, amazing you."

He reached up and caressed her cheek with his palm, aching for the pain he saw radiating from her expression. "You thought I wanted you to change, but I loved you enough not to ask you to change for me. And because you didn't want to take a chance on us, I loved you enough to let you have your way. I loved you enough to back off and just be your friend and your partner. I loved you enough not to try to pressure you into loving me. I loved you enough to try to move on—even though my feelings for you were still there… are still there."

"Booth..."

"I'm sorry, Bones. I know this hurts like hell. It's ripping me up that I screwed it up. I should have pushed you then… forced you to see how much I loved you. I should have said it then. But I didn't want to push you. I wanted you to want me all on your own. I didn't want to bully you into that decision."

"I didn't need to make a decision, Booth. I just didn't think I could give you what you deserved. I just wanted you to be happy."

"I know."

She was unaccountably at a loss for how to construct a complete sentence, "Booth… If you still feel… if you really..."

"No. I was honest with you, Bones. I do love Hannah. And I can't just turn away from that relationship. We're good together."

"But if you..."

The sadness and sincerity in his now smoky brown eyes were emblazoned in her memory along with the words he spoke next, "I still love you, Temperance. I was serious. I'd never want to stop. But we might have missed our moment. Maybe this is the way things were supposed to work out. Maybe you're meant to find someone it won't be so hard for you to love."

"Booth..."

He turned to her and was momentarily frozen by the desperation and love he saw in her eyes.

"You're not."

"I'm not what?"

"Nothing about you is difficult to love."

"Bones..."

That simple use of her nickname told her that this conversation was not going to end her heartbreak. Crumbling but still feeling the need to console him, she smiled at him and traced her fingertips over one half of his perfectly symmetrical zygomatic arch and down across his strong mandible. "I have enough evidence. You're the perfect specimen, Booth. You're beautiful and yet strong and utterly masculine, you are loving even though you risk great pain to be so, you are smart and highly adept at reading people and doing your job, you are brave enough to have faced down your drunken father, enemy soldiers, and your own painful past. You are a very good man. You are loyal, generous, amusing, and many other things. You have been perfect for me and to me even though I refused you. You have changed my life for the better, and I will remain grateful and loyal to you even if we can only be friends and partners."

"Bones…," he whispered, moved by her words and touched that she seemed to be conceding to his wishes and admitting to changing her mind about so many things about which she had seemed immovable.

He reached out and pulled her to him, aching with the way that his body and his soul felt at peace just holding her. She cried only silent tears, seemingly content with learning the truth and confessing her own.

Some indeterminate time later, he pulled back, kissed her forehead and lingered a moment and then moved to stand and leave. He was surprised when she placed her hand on his arm to stop him. Bracing for whatever she might say, he sat back down and looked at her. He was astounded by the fire he saw illuminating her beautiful eyes.

"I am trying very hard to accept the fact that I missed my chance with you. I will… accept it… but I need to know that I'm giving up… on us… for the right reasons."

He just looked at her, begging her not to say anything else, but she continued speaking straight from what she still would have denied was her heart, "You owe it to both of us to consider all the evidence, Booth. Make sure that you won't have any regrets. I want you to be happy. If Hannah is where you find your happiness, then I will forever be grateful to her for giving you what you deserve. She's my friend, and I would never betray her. But… she deserves someone to love her fully, without reservation, with the entirety of his heart."

She paused for a long moment, looking down as she sniffled and then dazzling him-first with the intensity of those incredible eyes of hers and then with words he was stunned to hear her voice, "It is my theory that what's between us is more intense, more life-changing, and more solid than what the two of you share; I know now with certainty that it could be."

_I won't let go, I won't give up  
And if we fight, we'll only fight for us  
Might not have much  
But what we got is more than enough  
'Cause what we got is love _

He started to speak but was actually grateful that she held a hand up to stop him. "You can go now, Booth. We both know the truth. As long as you are certain about what you're doing, there's nothing more to say."

Booth gazed at her for a long moment, a chill running up his spine as the importance of what she'd just said settled in his gut. His voice unashamedly emotional, he whispered to her, "Bones…. Call me… if you need anything. I'll… I'll see you soon." Realizing there was nothing more either one of them needed to say in that moment, he rose slowly and strode quickly out of and away from her office. She watched him leave and then turned to face the opposite wall of her office. Slowly pulling herself together, she wiped her tears and sat up straight, preparing to go out and resume her work. Sighing, she stood and straightened out the fabric of her jacket and turned to leave her office.

A stricken Angela stood there, tears falling, "Bren… what the hell just happened in here?" she asked. In the intimacy of the moment, neither of them had noticed that Angela had walked up to the office and witnessed most of their exchange through the glass walls of her best friend's office.

Clearing her throat, Brennan replied in a voice that slowly regained its strength and composure, "Nothing happened, Angela. Booth and I were just discussing things… things… that happened a long time ago. I hope you'll understand that what happens between partners needs to stay between partners. This isn't something I can discuss with you… not right now."

And with that, she walked out across the hallway and onto the platform to review the remains. Angela stood staring, watching her friend with admiration, with concern, and with fear for the state of her heart.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

_**[A/N: Researched a few things quickly on Wikipedia just to add a bit of detail here about an upcoming holiday that is NOT one of my favorites.**_

_**Don't own Bones. But I love it. And I still love that song "Try." Sigh…]**_

February 14, 2011

Although she'd have denied it vehemently because there could be no logical basis for her distress, Brennan felt annoyed. As she'd walked into the brisk, chill wind that made her shiver and left her extremities numb, she'd noticed lovers everywhere that morning. Most mornings she couldn't recall seeing more than a handful of people in the early hours during which she made her way to the lab. However, today her path had been strewn with the blatant happiness of lovers parading around and showing the world how happy they were together.

At the sight of the first couple, the fact that today was Valentine's Day had registered with Temperance and had nagged her uncomfortably. The condition had grown more disconcerting the more couples she passed. Temperance was offended that she'd even noticed - primarily because she was not one of "those women." She had never subscribed to the notion of love or any man affecting her ultimate happiness. She was not among those women who wore red annually on this day (or black out of blatant defiance) and sat wistfully by waiting for someone to send her flowers or bring her candy or send her a hastily purchased card. She was perfectly capable of purchasing any such item for herself to brighten her apartment or workspace. She seldom did so because she found her satisfaction and personal happiness in her work, in advancing her field, in publishing her books, and in the few close personal relationships she maintained—not in simple material things that held no virtual or intrinsic value.

Stopping for a second cup of coffee inside the building to take some of the edge of the cold and her ire off, she berated herself for her hyperbole. Of course there had been no actual parade of lovers that morning and they certainly hadn't been "everywhere." While it was true that it was rather unusual for more than four couples to have walked near her on her way into work, none of them had been intentionally pretentious about the fact that they were in love. What had been atypical was that she'd noticed them happy together and felt pained by that knowledge.

She could only attribute her melancholy to the fact that love was a subject that still pained her privately these cold winter days. She and Booth had done what they'd done for years over the last few weeks. They'd worked together as always even if it were from the safety of the distance of more recent days. Often enough for it to appear appropriate, she asked him how Hannah was, and he pretended not to see the way she flinched when his girlfriend called. He tried to hide his ache of regret that he hadn't been what would make the woman he adored happy.

Using skills they'd long crafted, they dodged the discomfort that accompanied learning new things about one another because of the limited time they now spent together. They were still partners. They were still two friends aching for the intimacy of the early days of their tightly forged partnership. They were still would-be lovers trying to pretend that the missed opportunity hadn't ever presented itself. They still failed. And they still didn't talk about it.

Temperance had even convinced Angela that she was fine. It had taken substantial effort and significant subterfuge, but she had finally admitted to Angela that she and Booth had once—years ago—considered a relationship but that they had made a mutual decision not to do so. She told her infinitesimal details about their recent struggles, but she set the scene years earlier—pretending that recent events truly were ancient history. She purposefully manipulated the facts to divulge that Dr. Sweets had unearthed the secret about their considered romance, and Angela seemed convinced that such a situation would have drawn emotions and heartache from both of them. But the more days that passed with everything appearing to be back to normal, the less Angela worried about her friends. That left Temperance alone with her heartbreak.

Fortunately, nobody else at the lab suspected how much pain she was enduring regularly. She realized that today she was looking for reasons to complain mentally about her own loneliness to cope with her never-ceasing grief. Ordinarily her unshakable determination and logic would have sent those mental tantrums about Valentine's Day into oblivion; today, they seemed intent upon aggravating her at every turn. Ever the student, Temperance was learning that apparently an inability to control one's emotions accompanied opening one's heart to another—even when no relationship ensued.

Attempting to console herself with her particular knowledge of the day and its marginal anthropological significance, she recounted that Valentine's Day had initially been associated with martyrdom and religion—not with relationships and love. Geoffrey Chaucer's poem for King Richard II of England to Anne of Bohemia in 1382 had been written as much to heal deep religious division among Catholics than as a tribute to their wedding anniversary. Thinking of Catholics reminded her of Booth as so many things did. She grimaced considering that those very Catholics had long perpetuated the wretched pseudo-holiday by ascribing sainthood to multiple people with the surname Valentine. Amusing herself juxtaposing facts inappropriately, she postulated that those saints could have been—or certainly should have been-martyred for encouraging couples to brandish their love for one another. Not unsurprisingly, the thought didn't quite lift her mood. She realized that her problems with this day were her own and that she could not attribute them to Chaucer or to the Pope himself. Still, she couldn't avoid feeling camaraderie with Claudius for his staunch opposition to all things Valentine. She also lauded his edicts that men remain single for now, although she would carry that secret to her grave even if tortured, she found that she longed more than she could bear for one particular man in her life to remain single.

Shaking herself out of her mental heart-shaped maze, Temperance booted up her computer and readied her workspace for the day. She'd spent far too long ruminating on the hollow holiday and would not allow herself any further distraction by it.

As she began responding to e-mails, she heard a knock at the door.

"Dr. Brennan, this arrived for you downstairs," Mr. Williams, one of the security guards said, smiling at her as if she'd be thrilled with the delivery of a gaudy container filled with blood-red roses.

"I am certain there's been a mistake," she huffed more energetically than she'd meant to do.

"No ma'am, these are clearly intended for you. We've had them scanned and x-rayed. I think they're harmless. But I'd appreciate it if you'd check the card. We can't be too safe around here. You're such an important person at the Jeffersonian. I won't be able to relax about leaving these flowers here until I know that they're from someone who'd mean you no harm."

Even while she blustered that the flowers had been sent to her in error and insisted that nobody she knew would send her flowers, a very small part of her illogically hoped that neither fact was true. When she opened the card, she realized that the flowers had been sent by one of the more belligerent fans of her written word. Summarily dismissing the flowers as she stuck the card on a corner of her desk and asking Mr. Williams to dispose of them, she turned back to her desk to continue her work. She made a mental note to mention to Booth that the delusional man had sent her flowers along with a ridiculous profession of his love for her—again. However, she knew that she would not explain the delivery to her partner until more time had passed. She was certain that she would not speak with him today. It was Valentine's Day. Naturally, his attention would be focused on Hannah. That miserable thought reminded her that she had every reason to focus her own attention on her work.

Temperance managed to work steadily for most of the rest of the day. She contained her foul mood rather well. The interns didn't appear to be any more traumatized and nervous than they normally were. She'd avoided protracted interactions with Angela and Cam for fear that they'd notice her agitation. As she completed a report cataloguing the identity and cause of death for the last case she and Booth had worked together, she reminded herself that she had only a few more hours until she could escape to the privacy of her apartment and wage her internal emotional battle alone as she did night after lonely night. She traversed the lab and opened a drawer to select a new set of unidentified remains to examine.

TRY… TRY… TRY… TRY… TRY… TRY… TRY… TRY… TRY… TRY… TRY… TRY…

A few hours later when she was back in her office recording the identity of the latest woman held in bone storage, Mr. Williams knocked on her door again. This time he was much more hesitant expecting another stark dismissal. "Dr. Brennan, there was another delivery for you this afternoon. Actually, there were two."

Swallowing hard and turning in her chair to face him, Brennan's composure faltered momentarily. In one hand, the security guard held a vase brimming with beautifully fresh daffodils. In the other, he held a medium-sized box.

Nodding to admit him, Brennan watched as he walked over toward her desk with the items. "There's no card with these flowers, Dr. Brennan—just an envelope with your name. I'm sure these aren't from that jerk who sent the roses this morning. The flowers are fine. I even asked Dr. Hodgins to make sure they weren't laced with anything."

"Thank you, Mr. Williams," Brennan said quietly. She accepted the clear cylinder holding the flowers and placed it near her computer. For some reason, she couldn't make herself send these flowers away. They were her favorites. They were beautiful. They might be from... She banished that thought before it had time to germinate. Instead, she focused her attention on the package.

Noticing who'd sent it made her stomach ache quite a bit. Sighing and then thanking Mr. Williams for delivering the items, she watched as he smiled and nodded and left the room.

She sat staring at the box on her desk for a long moment. She simply did not want to open the package. Nothing about receiving this package could improve her mood or make her day any easier. Logic dictated that no package could itself hold emotional implications, but she was having difficulty letting logic guide her that day. She fought the urge to leave the room and pretend she had never received this package. Instead, in a gesture of genuine friendship, she pulled out her letter opener and slit the tape to open it anyway.

As she opened the box, Temperance glanced a few times at the flowers now brightening up her workspace. As much as she'd liked to wish they might be from Booth, she knew better. These flowers were no doubt from her father. He had made a habit of sending her flowers each year on Valentine's Day when she was a child and again since he'd returned to her adult life. Originally, he'd done it to make it less obvious that she'd not had any boys her age sending flowers. She'd always burned with the knowledge that her father had pitied her even as she'd pretended to her classmates that the flowers were indeed from a "secret admirer." While she'd known he'd meant the gesture to be supportive and confirming of his love for her, she'd hated those deliveries. They'd only signified that even her own father thought her unworthy of love by any other boy. Apparently he still did so, and he had ultimately been correct in that assumption. Focusing on facts rather than the emotions now swirling around them, she recalled that her particular dislike of today's anthropologically insignificant commercial holiday had begun back in those early days.

As she opened the box and chastised herself for considering even for a brief moment that Booth had sent her the flowers, Brennan pondered why his girlfriend would have sent her a delivery on Valentine's Day. There was no logical reason for her to do so. Again haunted by her intuition that this was not going to be anything good, she opened the box. Inside was a large-sized shirt box wrapped in heart-covered paper. On top of the box and the envelope adorning it was a note addressed to her.

Guessing what the note might hold, Temperance opened it and read it in stunned disbelief. Hannah was asking her to take the Valentine's Day gift she'd gotten for Seeley to their apartment. She'd gone on to explain that she and Seeley had argued before she'd left for this trip. She continued by describing the fact that Seeley had made reservations at a nice restaurant and at a cabin for the following weekend so that they could celebrate Valentine's Day. He'd wanted to surprise her, but she'd told him about her last-minute work trip band he'd had to reveal his secret plans. He'd had to cancel both reservations when she left for this trip. He'd asked her to stay, and she hadn't. They'd argued. She now felt guilty for spoiling his gifts for her. What the note did not acknowledge was that the "happy" couple had been bickering more often lately and that Seeley had been struggling quietly with problems he didn't discuss with her.

Temperance paused and pondered the fact that she had no prior knowledge of this argument between the lovers. Sadly, she was so removed from Booth and his current life that such gaps in information would become commonplace. Even as she struggled with what Hannah was asking her to do, she felt a measure of sympathy for Booth that his thorough planning had not come to fruition as he'd hoped.

After explaining where she'd like her to leave the gift and discussing the fact that she wanted Seeley to know that she'd done more than just mail an impersonal package to him, Hannah had remarked that she assumed that Temperance would understand her circumstances in a way that Seeley never could. She went on to say that she'd never celebrated Valentine's Day and that she hadn't even realized the stupid greeting card company holiday had been approaching when she'd agreed to the trip. She expressed regret for the fact that her unwillingness to change those habits had hurt the man she loved. She pled with Brennan to help her mend things with Seeley.

Brennan sighed. Under any other circumstances, she'd have found this request inconvenient, but she'd have helped Hannah because she'd felt a bond with this woman who—like her-was too focused and driven to spend time on Valentine's Day and similar insubstantial traditions. However, in this situation, she balked at Hannah's request that she find the spare key to their apartment (or use one Seeley had given her "if she had one") and leave it in Seeley's—in their—bedroom.

Despite her hesitation, logic and friendship dictated that she should accommodate Hannah's request. If she did not, Booth might spend this day he'd obvious looked forward to without even a gift to provide him solace. She considered having it delivered to him by courier but dreaded having to explain her actions should Hannah question them. Ultimately, her concern for Booth's happiness caused her to close her office up early to deliver the package even though she did not want to do so.

So against all instincts toward self-preservation, Brennan called Booth to make certain that he would not be near his apartment when she went over. Booth had been surprised to hear from her at one of those frequent times at which his mind had swung—as it so often did—back to thoughts of her. To hide his emotion, he answered her call and immediately began whining about being stuck late at the office overseeing an internal investigation. In his frustration and without realizing what he was doing, he told her that he thought Hacker was still punishing him because she wouldn't go out with him anymore.

"Do you want me to go out with him?"

Booth shook his head miserably. He just had to say that out loud. He was the idiot of all idiots for bringing up Hacker to Bones. Bones had been on his mind even more often than usual lately, and his irritation about those unresolved thoughts and emotions about her had been causing him to fight with Hannah, to snipe at his co-workers, and apparently to say stupid things to his partner. Still, he would not lie to her, "No. I never wanted you to go out with him, Bones. Don't even think about doing that. I'm sorry. It's just... I just hate all this stupid extra desk work. I'd rather be working cases with you. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to unload on you. This too shall pass. I'll survive." He shut his mouth, grateful to have finally stopped blabbing.

To dissolve the escalating tension of the silence that ensued, Temperance quickly made up a work-related reason for the call. As predicted, Booth responded by informing her that he'd be stuck at the office "doing stupid paperwork" until 7. After hesitating, he asked her tentatively if she'd want to grab something to eat with him later. He hoped she wouldn't take his invitation as any sort of Valentine's backup plan. He'd just wanted to see her and spend time with her. As soon as he'd seen she was calling, he realized how much he missed her. He wouldn't let himself read more into his request than that, and he hoped she wouldn't either. Denial was a wonderful place. He'd lived there most of their partnership. Doing so now felt comfortable.

Touched by the offer, but determined to save them both that grief, she declined. Just imagining sitting with Booth under the red and pink decorations at the diner made her feel ill.

TRY… TRY… TRY… TRY… TRY… TRY… TRY… TRY… TRY… TRY… TRY… TRY…

Intent upon getting into and out of his apartment unnoticed, Brennan snuck into his apartment to leave the gift. After placing it carefully on the bed and trying not to look around the room to see the evidence of Booth's happy life with Hannah, Temperance hesitated. Unable to resist the impulse, she picked up what she knew to be Booth's pillow and indulged her weary heart by taking time to inhale his scent. Knowing it was illogical but unable to help herself, she held the pillow to her chest and spent several long moments reveling in the familiar scent of her partner. Blinking back tears and determined to be far from there when he came home, she replaced the pillow and fled from the apartment.

On her way out as she locked the apartment door and replaced the poorly hidden key (for some illogical reason she hadn't been able to use the one Booth had given her), Temperance vowed to spend every future Valentine's Day in a country in which it was illegal to celebrate the occasion. She considered planning a trip the following February to Saudi Arabia, Pakistan, or another country with extreme bans on the holiday. She made a mental note to identify which country's restrictions were most severe before making the reservations.

TRY… TRY… TRY… TRY… TRY… TRY… TRY… TRY… TRY… TRY… TRY… TRY…

About 8:30 that night, Booth unlocked his apartment and made his way inside. He headed straight to the kitchen and then opened and practically inhaled the takeout he'd picked up at Sid's. He ate quickly as if doing so would banish Sid's words from his memory. He knew better than to question the food his friend prepared for him, but he had come really close to telling the man to mind his own freaking business. "Here's a special soup to help heal your conflicted heart." Seriously? The man was a restaurant owner, not "Sweets Senior." Booth told himself to forget what the man had said. His heart wasn't conflicted; it was lonely. But even as he had the thought, his gut told him to quit lying to himself. Sid's words sunk into his brain and stayed there the way that his food typically healed and comforted those who followed his recommendations.

Booth's thoughts transferred automatically to Bones and her refusal of his dinner offer earlier. He sighed, hating the way that things between them had gotten so screwed up. They'd talked. He knew how she felt. He was with Hannah. She knew how he felt. But he wasn't enough for Bones. And he didn't think he could handle being rejected by her again. Still, finally knowing the truth he'd always suspected had actually made accepting it so much harder.

After wallowing through the disaster that was his partnership for a while, his not-so-cheery thoughts wandered back to his failed plans to celebrate with Hannah that evening. Uncomfortable in his own skin and eager to end the pity party he'd started, he strode to the bathroom peeling off his clothes and relishing the opportunity to let them lie untidy for as long as he liked. That was his Valentine's Day gift to himself.

After a long, lonely shower, Booth toweled off and stalked to his bedroom. He stopped short as he noticed the package lying atop the bed. Trying not to be paranoid, he stepped closer and recognized Hannah's quick scrawl across the envelope on top. His spirits soared as he realized that she had come home early to surprise him. Flopping back on the bed, he reached for the phone and dialed her cell. Perhaps this crappy day would end on a fabulous note after all. He just wanted to be happy and not alone for five minutes. He hadn't felt that way in ages.

During the time it took for the call to go through, Booth realized that he had been wrong. As the static of the overseas connection took hold, he heard Hannah's sleepy voice. Frustrated that he'd suckered himself into believing that she had come home, he tried to hide the disappointment in his voice. He apologized for the early morning call and then thanked her for the gift. When she asked if he liked it, he confessed that he hadn't even opened it yet. He hid his disappointment that she was half a globe away and told her that he'd called her immediately, hoping that she'd be touched that he was happy just to hear from her. She had been.

They talked for a few moments. Hannah told him she'd be home in a week. He told her he missed her. They both pretended that they hadn't been bickering and uncomfortably distant when she had been at home. She told him she wanted him to book that getaway again so that she could spend a whole weekend making her absence up to him. He said that he would. He loved her. He was going to try to be a better boyfriend to her. He could do that.

Seeley asked her how she managed to get the gift into their bedroom. His gut felt as if it exploded when she told him that Temperance had dropped it off for her. All thoughts of anything else escaped him in that moment.

He swallowed hard and only then noticed the faint scent of his partner permeating his space. God, he'd swear Hannah was torturing Bones if he didn't know better. He knew she wasn't, but of all the crappy things for Bones to be asked to do….

Distracted from most of the rest of their conversation, Booth ended the call. He was frustrated all over again that Hannah had left and that she was inadvertently driving Bones nuts. He was even more upset with himself that he was still all tied up in knots about Bones, and now he was angry with himself for being relieved that Hannah had extended her travel for another week. It was cowardly of him to enjoy the brief respite from juggling and fighting against his feelings for two women. He hated it even as he accepted that it was just the way things were.

As he lay there breathing in the scent of his partner, he realized he was entirely pathetic to be missing two women at the same time. He also knew that he couldn't stop. After years of memorizing the aroma of his partner and being moved by the opportunities he'd had to simply drink her in, he was all too familiar with grasping at the chance to treasure what he had of her secretly. Incapable of thinking of anyone else when he could close his eyes and smell her perfume and her conditioner and her deodorant, he swallowed hard. What a crappy day Bones must have had. His lame last-minute invitation to dinner had to have been a kick in the gut.

He'd barely begun to process how amazing it was that Bones had helped Hannah treat him for Valentine's Day when his phone rang. Feeling guilty—but not as guilty as he should have when Hannah might be calling back while he was caught up again in thoughts of his partner, he answered without checking the number.

He shot up when he heard the voice on the other line telling him that they'd found a body. They had a case.

It appeared that fate was determined that he and Bones would spend Valentine's evening together after all. It figured that would happen only after he had begun dating someone else. For years, he and Bones had always made light of the holiday and spent the evening apart pretending to ignore it completely—with him missing her more than he ever had admitted to himself. He wondered if she'd ever felt that way, too.

He now felt grateful that he had sent Bones those flowers that afternoon. He told himself that the gesture didn't mean anything… not really. He hadn't had any reason to send the flowers other than not wanting her to feel left out or alone. He'd stopped in at a florists to wire flowers to Hannah's hotel, and he'd just felt compelled to have another arrangement delivered to Bones. He still refused to allow himself to acknowledge that he'd actually sent flowers to both the women he loved. He'd completely ignored the fact that he'd spent a good ten minutes consulting with the florist about the bouquet for one of those women and that he'd ordered the other bouquet automatically as if he'd done it every week as long as he'd known her.

He sighed and wished that things hadn't gotten so complicated. He realized now that he'd been having those thoughts more and more since he and Bones had been honest with one another. But he tried not to think about that—it felt like emotional cheating and it was only leading him back to his old broken heart. Bones might have opened up to him and he knew that she cared for him, but he wasn't convinced that he could ever be enough for her. And without an impetus to take another huge gamble, this reformed gambler was letting things ride.

Because he wanted his partner to be happy even if they remained just friends, he decided that sending the flowers without letting her know they were from him had been the right thing to do. He sighed again wishing that doing the right thing were always that easy.

Moving the still unopened gift toward the middle of the bed, he rose, pulled on his jacket, grabbed his gun, wallet, and keys from the kitchen counter, and dialed his partner on his way out of the building. He was picking her up, dammit. It was late, and he wasn't going to let Bones drive herself to the crime scene.

TRY… TRY… TRY… TRY… TRY… TRY… TRY… TRY… TRY… TRY… TRY… TRY…

Brennan's phone rang and she groaned. The last thing she wanted to do was see Booth tonight. She let the call go to voicemail and then listened, wincing as she heard his voice. She texted him back quickly and told him she'd work with Charlie or the other agent on call. She all but told him not to go to the crime scene with her.

Booth scanned her messages and grumbled. At the next light, he returned her message and told her he'd be waiting outside her building in ten minutes.

She groaned again as she pulled out her kit and started putting on her jumpsuit. She should have known Booth would ignore her insistence that they not spend time together that evening. He'd never listened to her demands about such things.

TRY… TRY… TRY… TRY… TRY… TRY… TRY… TRY… TRY… TRY… TRY… TRY…

The partners had both been so preoccupied with pretending not to be thinking about one another that they did not converse much on the way to or while they were at the crime scene. They'd worked the case as they had so many before—seamlessly, carefully, perfectly in sync professionally—if askew personally.

Later, as she watched the people walking along the sidewalks as Booth drove them back toward her apartment, Temperance struggled afresh with regret. She supposed that if she truly had fallen in love with the one person she'd ever love that way then recovering from that failed relationship would take time. Rationally, she realized that having to deal with Booth on a weekly basis and even more often during cases prevented her from having time away from him to heal. This would likely slow the process. She was as eager to feel relief from her current burden as she was terrified that she might one day view Booth again as only friend and partner. She almost didn't want proof that her theories about love being ephemeral had been true. She had no such proof about her own feelings yet as they remained strong enough to be smothering. She considered that only time and experience would yield such evidence.

The chime of her phone pulled Temperance back into the cab of the SUV with her partner. Mumbling something as she pulled the phone out of her pocket, she took the call.

"Oh, hi."

...

"Yes, seeing you on Sunday would be acceptable. Do you have a preference for the location?"

Booth's investigative and protective radar kicked in. This conversation could have been Bones trying to make arrangements for a date and keeping it from him.

He eavesdropped blatantly. He'd never been able to stay out of her personal life. He'd long since stopped pretending to do so.

"The vegetarian selections there are unacceptable, Dad."

A slight breath whooshed out of a now guilt-laden Booth. It wasn't his business whom Bones dated because she wasn't dating him. He had a girlfriend. He couldn't expect her not to date. Still, he felt a huge relief knowing she had been talking with her father.

"Fine. I can accept that compromise," his partner continued.

Trying to focus on the road instead of his partner's conversation, Booth heard her protest and couldn't help but smile as he listened to what she said. About some things, Bones was Bones and that would never change. He was entirely grateful for that.

"You know that I do not acknowledge or celebrate that pseudo-holiday, Dad."

...

"You know that I love you. I don't see why my refusing to wish you a Happy Valentine's Day would make you think otherwise. The two are contraindicated."

...

She sighed, admitting nonverbally that Max was making his point. "Yes, I know you love me. I… I love you, too."

...

"Thanks for the flowers..."

...

"Oh..."

Booth felt a surge of discomfort flood his entire body. It was if he were trapped in ropes or some other sort of binding that was choking off his blood and his air supply. He looked the other direction and tried to control the flush that demanded to reveal itself on his face as he heard his partner stumble uncomfortably to cover her misstep and end the call.

He couldn't look at her. She knew. She had to know. What kind of ass sent flowers to the woman he turned down? His innocent gesture had turned into something ugly, tainted, horrific. A part of him died as he sat there.

She glanced at him, read his discomfort, and turned to look back out the window blinking back tears. She knew. He'd sent those flowers to her. She'd kicked herself all day for considering the possibility, and she'd been right all along. Sometimes it was terrible being a genius. For once, she wished she'd been completely wrong.

Booth had sent her flowers. Anonymously. On Valentine's Day. He had a girlfriend. He was in love. Perhaps he, like her father, had taken pity on her. Her stomach rolled. Having Booth pity her was the worst-case scenario. She might not have accepted his love, but she could not accept his pity. Her mind raced. She had to stay quiet until they arrived at her apartment. She had to get away from him without making it obvious that she was doing so.

He was trying desperately to think of anything he could say to her. Nothing sounded right. He had no options. As he pulled into the empty space in front of her building, she leapt from the car and half-sprinted into the building. He watched her rush from him and felt a renewed sense of guilt. Still, it didn't hurt enough—not for what he'd done and what he seemed to keep doing to Bones. Sighing miserably, he pulled out into traffic to head home.

TRY… TRY… TRY… TRY… TRY… TRY… TRY… TRY… TRY… TRY… TRY… TRY…

As he trudged back up to his apartment and thought of dialing Gordon Gordon for some advice on how to stop complicating his own life, Booth told himself that everything would be fine. So Bones knew that he'd sent her flowers. He'd already told her he loved her—that he'd always love her. They were beyond the point of pretending they didn't have social contracts. Surely she would forgive him eventually and realize that he hadn't meant to cause her further pain.

God, had he really done that… said all those things that morning in her office? He'd dreamt so long of telling her how he felt and of finally convincing her to be with him. And she'd all but told him she felt the same way. Still, it just hadn't seemed right. Nothing had been right even though everything should have been. What hurt most in this moment was that he now realized he'd been ignoring just how wrong everything had been—how wrong everything had been for more than a year.

Booth ignored the way his gut was screaming at him to wise up and deal with what he really felt. He'd learned long ago to deal with the consequences of his actions no matter how difficult it was. He'd said and done things and made decisions. And the fallout was all on him. There was nobody else to blame. He had to own up to his decisions and try to do the right thing.

He made his way into his apartment and into his dark, empty bedroom trying to ignore the symbolism of that fact. As he lie down on top of the comforter exhausted, his hand landed on the box from Hannah. Knowing he should not be opening a gift from her given the way he'd been thinking and feeling, he sat up, turned on the light, and opened it anyway. As he pushed back the tissue paper, his heart literally froze in his chest.

Reading quickly through Hannah's note, he sat stunned, feeling as if for the very first time everything had suddenly become absolutely crystal clear—as beautifully transparent as the vase he'd selected to hold the flowers he'd sent to Bones. It was as if he had finally found the right setting on the binoculars or on the scope atop his sniper rifle. It was as if Angela had put up all the important details he needed to remember on the screen of the Angelator and that she had walked him through the evidence until he'd become completely convinced. It was as if all the pain and the fear and the longing and the sheer heartbreak hadn't happened at all. They could no longer cloud his vision or his feelings.

In the stark silence of his epiphany, nothing was blocking his vision. He saw everything clearly and with a precision that now astounded him and made it difficult to breathe.

He felt like weeping but could not. He needed to get up and pace, but he could not. He thought about calling Hannah but found that he could not. Every time his instincts told him to do something, his brain cut him off. He finally realized that he had to stop doing things to keep from thinking. That's what he'd been doing since Bones told him she was going to Maluku. He'd been in constant motion—doing things incessantly—doing anything and everything so that he could ignore his own thoughts and feelings. Now that he felt as if he could really think about everything, that's all he was able to do.

Never comfortable with inaction for long, Seeley Booth sat as still as he could and thought about the gift, the emotions it stirred within him, its significance, and what he needed to do about that. Having let himself think long and hard about all these things, he arrived at his decision in a millisecond and with the precision with which he'd been trained to fire bullets into the enemy. Glancing down one last time at the gift, he rose. He knew his course of action and was finally prepared to take it.


	6. Chapter 6

_**[A/N: Okay. I had something else planned and decided it wouldn't work. Once I took that part out, this just wrote itself. Probably not in character (at all) and might not fit the rest of the story. I'm not apologizing—I'm just trying to figure out how this happened. I'm supposed to be in charge here—right? **_

_**Still don't own Bones, but I can't wait for new episodes to return to TV!]**_

Chapter 6

Temperance Brennan paced anxiously in her office. She didn't make a habit of pacing, but she was entirely unaccustomed to being so uncontrollably angry. She was having extraordinary difficulty keeping calm. For perhaps the first time, she understood why her partner used devices such as his poker chip to diffuse his tension and to help him keep himself from unleashing his frustrations. _Booth…_ Just thinking his name sent her spiraling again into a blind rage. But she exerted a tight control on her emotions and paced faster instead of allowing the anger to rip the rest of her apart.

She asserted now that Booth needed devices to help control himself because he obviously lacked her intelligence, her discipline, and her self-control. He lacked many things… and in this moment, she was tempted to ensure that he lacked at least one of his more masculine appendages just for what he'd done… what he'd had the audacity to do. As she paced, she walked back through the events of the last 72 hours.

_She'd rushed home in tears, humiliated that Booth had sent her flowers and that she'd let him see how emotional that delivery from him had made her. She'd barely slept and had finally given up trying to do so. She'd gone to the lab in the wee hours of the morning that next day._

_Upon her arrival, she'd remembered that she and Booth were scheduled to make a presentation that morning to a group of new FBI agents. They'd made the same presentation to groups before. Booth usually took the lead and used the opportunity to recruit more members of his informal but rapidly growing FBI-worship committee. By the end of the class, the new agents would have learned all they could about forensic techniques from her—only because Booth would glare them into paying close attention. But instead of thanking her for her time or for sharing her expertise, they'd all crowd around Booth hoping for a chance to talk with the charismatic senior agent. _

_She grimaced, the thought of spending the morning with her partner pretending that they still got along as easily as always making her exhausted. She refilled her cup of coffee and dialed her partner's number to remind him about the course. She'd left a message and busied herself with the work she could complete in the intervening time before the presentation._

_She'd made her way from the lab to the Hoover Building early enough to get ready but not one moment sooner than she'd thought necessary. She'd gone straight to the conference room they always used and found Charlie there unpacking the materials. Charlie's presence hadn't been unexpected. Like many other agents and analysts, he often performed menial tasks for Booth willingly. She'd said hello to Charlie and then pulled her own materials from her satchel. About ten minutes before the meeting, she asked Charlie to find Booth so that he'd be there on time. His silence surprised her. Although she ignored him at first, she eventually realized that Charlie was standing there staring at her._

"_Charlie is something wrong?" she'd asked. She'd watched as most of the color had drained out of the man's face. He paused for a moment and then spoke, clearly uncertain about what to say to her._

"_Um… Dr. Brennan, Booth didn't leave you a message?"_

"_A message? No. What's wrong, Charlie? Why would Booth need to leave me a message? We're supposed to teach this course in a few minutes."_

"_Booth's not going to be here today. He asked me to stand in and help."_

_Fury ignited. Booth wouldn't work with her today? He sent flowers but he wouldn't see her? What the hell? She pulled out her phone and dialed, hanging up when she got no answer._

_As the new agents started to file into the room, Temperance realized that she needed more information. With her ever-present calm composure, she asked Charlie to follow her out into the hallway. As he left the room, he saw the scientist stalking down the hallway to Booth's empty office. Booth really owed him for this. Charlie didn't normally mind the man taking advantage, but this was too much._

"_Where is he?" Brennan snapped as soon as Charlie closed the door._

"_He's on leave. He took a few personal days."_

"_Personal days? Does the FBI even offer personal days, Charlie? Booth doesn't take personal days. Where is he?"_

_The woman's anger was legendary. She'd yelled at Charlie before. But he saw how upset she was and cursed Booth again for dumping this mess in his lap._

"_Vacation days. He took vacation days. Not sick days. Vacation days."_

"_Is his grandfather okay? Did something happen to Parker? What's wrong, Charlie? Booth never takes time off, and he doesn't leave town without telling me. Where is he?"_

"_I don't know. He left me a message telling me that he had to leave town for a few days. He asked me to put in his paperwork for him and for me to help you with the class. That's it. He didn't say anything else."_

"_And he didn't ask you to tell me anything… where he was going… that he was leaving?"_

"_No. I'm sorry, Dr. Brennan. I thought he'd called you. Booth always calls you." The lump in her throat grew as she heard those words. _

"_I'll be there in a moment to start the class. Please go welcome everyone for us," she said calmly. Charlie's look let her know he wasn't buying it. But he was smart enough to get out of that room by any means necessary._

_Temperance did some deep breathing and pulled her emotions together. Then she turned and walked toward the conference room._

_None of the students that day would have suspected that this course was far different from the one usually offered. Relying upon her excellent memory, Temperance led the course, explained the issues Booth typically discussed and delivered her own material flawlessly. She pulled Charlie into the discussion often enough to give him credibility and to show how partners should interact. The attendees flocked to her at the end of class, offering to work with her in any capacity. She was polite and receptive of their efforts at conversation. She listened patiently even though that was the last thing she wanted to do._

_Charlie worried more the more "normal" Dr. Brennan acted. She'd handled the class like a pro—without missing a beat. Booth would have been proud of her, but Charlie knew better than to tell her that. Instead, he helped her clear the room and pack away the materials. When they finished and they walked down the hallway to leave the items in Booth's office, Brennan finally let loose of her tight grip on her emotions._

"_He could be in trouble, Charlie. He could need help. Have you tried to call him?"_

"_He's not picking up his voicemail."_

"_Those forms you filled out for him. Do they have details on them? Would he have to tell someone at the agency where he was going?"_

"_I..."_

"_Go find out where he is, Charlie. Go now."_

"_Yes, ma'am," he said, knowing better than to argue with her. Temperance turned and walked across the room. She sat in Booth's beloved chair, and marveled at the emotion doing so produced. She never sat in this chair. She could smell him, feel his presence, and sense the indentions his body made in the chair he used so often. For a moment, her longing for him squelched her anger and worries._

_When those fears rushed back to overpower her, s__he picked up the phone, grateful that Booth still kept that antiquated Rolodex atop his desk. Flipping through it with a precision only a close friend could have, she called Hank and confirmed that he was fine. She dialed Rebecca and inquired about her and about Parker. No reason for concern there. Booth hadn't called them either. She dialed three numbers for Jared and found them all to be disconnected. She called Dr. Gordon Wyatt and was told that he had not seen Booth in ages. _

_About that time, Sweets had walked in and commented on how surprised he was to find her in Booth's office appearing to be working without her partner. She'd grilled him and learned that Booth hadn't told him about where he was going. Sweets tried to console his patient by reminding her that Booth would call one of them if he needed help. Ever the psychologist, he asked her why Booth's unexplained absence upset her so much. In a very Booth-y manner, she told him to stop analyzing her and shut up. Frustrated, Sweets decided to deliver what he knew in advance was a low blow. "Have you called Hannah?"_

_Angry eyes met his from across the room momentarily. But with a skilled show of feigned indifference, the anthropologist told him that she did not want to cause Hannah to worry unnecessarily. Even as she spoke, she realized that Sweets had been correct. Of course that's where Booth would have gone. He'd gone home and opened his Valentine's Day gift from Hannah—the one she'd delivered—and rushed halfway around the world to make amends with the woman he loved. Her composure nearly faltered as she replaced the phone on its cradle, her frantic calling now complete and her humiliation too great to hide._

_Sensing the change in Dr. Brennan's demeanor, Sweets now felt guilty for throwing Hannah in her face. "I'm sure Booth will call soon or show up back here or at the lab. I'm sure there's no reason to worry. We have no evidence that we should do so, right?"_

"_Right," she'd said almost too calmly. With that said, she'd risen and left Booth's office, forgetting to wait for Charlie to arrive with news._

_When she'd arrived at the laboratory, the light on her phone had beckoned. She'd had only one message—not from her partner. Instead, Charlie had called to tell her… stumbling over his words and sounding entirely apologetic… that Booth had taken a last-minute trip to Jordan._

_Her worst thoughts confirmed, she'd continued through her workday as if it were any other. She'd left late and avoided talking with anyone. _

_She'd gone home alone to debate silently about what Booth's departure meant. He'd clearly gone to strengthen his relationship with Hannah. He obviously had so little regard for her that he didn't bother skipping out on professional commitments. He hadn't spared the time to leave her a text or an e-mail to apologize or to tell her not to worry. _

_Booth's abrupt disappearance showed her very clearly how much things between them had changed. She had to move on. She'd spent enough time worrying about him and missing him. It was evident that they were barely partners anymore—hardly friends. She needed to treat him as a colleague—nothing more. Her plan clearly defined, she began working to banish thoughts of him and worries about him from her mind._

TRY… TRY… TRY… TRY… TRY… TRY… TRY… TRY… TRY… TRY… TRY… TRY…

_Two days later..._

_Temperance was beginning to be grateful for Booth's absence. She'd been correct—dealing with him frequently made it more difficult to move on. She was now convinced that if Booth stayed away long enough, she'd have her emotions about him tucked neatly away into her emotional storage boxes. _

_She was coming out from under the intense feeling of mourning that had plagued her since she'd first learned that Booth had left. Three days was long enough to adapt. She was adapting._

_Or at least she had been adapting. However, her knees nearly faltered when she entered her office and saw a new bouquet of daffodils on her desk. This delivery was identical to the one Booth had sent to her on Valentine's Day. Biting her lower lip nervously, she made her way to her desk slowly. This time there was a card attached to the flowers. She almost wasn't brave enough to open it._

_Slowly, she turned the small envelope over and opened it, drawing out the tiny card. The handwriting was unfamiliar but the message was from her partner. _

_Squeezing her eyes closed tightly, she fought tears as the message sank in. The small card had held only these words:  
_

_I'm sorry. Booth_

_Three words. They were simple and yet she could not decipher their true meaning. What was he sorry for—walking out with no explanation, making her worry, leaving her to teach the course alone, breaking her heart, sending the last flowers, what? There were so many things for which he could and should feel sorry. But even as she tried to accept his gesture, she became enraged by it. Did he really think that she'd forgive him for any of the things he'd done just because he sent flowers? And why the card this time? Those few words were so grossly inadequate. Why leave them at all? She'd have known the flowers were from him anyway. Then it hit her that he was likely trying to make sure that she didn't read too much into the gesture. Did he mean to make it clear that they were just flowers of apology—nothing more?_

_More importantly, why did she care so much? Why was she letting this bother her? She'd made progress and determined to move past her tangled web of emotions about him. She was not going to allow a simple floral delivery to sideline her—not now. She'd already embarrassed herself in front of Sweets and Charlie—showing them how worried she was about him. She'd invested too much emotion and wasted too much energy on Booth. She had to stop it. She'd find a way._

Despite her firm plans not to think about her partner, the longer the day had worn on, the more furious Temperance had become. That floral delivery had set her off. She had been harsh with her interns, impatient with her staff, and ungracious to her best friend's inquiries. Realizing she wasn't fit for interaction, she'd eventually locked herself in her office to sift through data and write up reports. She'd spent large amounts of time pacing her office, but she managed to work at least intermittently.

Late in the afternoon, she had been pacing again when the door to her office had opened. She'd turned quickly, ready to snap at the intruder, and realized that her partner was standing there in the doorway. She closed her mouth and set her jaw. She would not let him see that she was relieved to see him safe and whole.

"Bones… Temperance…," he said almost hoarsely. Even in her outrage, she could see that he looked tired. He looked exhausted. He was standing there in rumpled clothing, holding a jacket in his right hand.

"We have no information for the bureau yet. I will send you an e-mail when there is evidence for you."

"Bones, I'm sorry."

Anger overtook all other emotions and courses of action, "So your floral delivery indicated. The card was not specific. Are you apologizing for something in particular, or was that your way of telling me you were sorry for ever initiating our partnership?"

"Whoa… Bones… Really. I know you're mad."

"You have no idea how angry I am, Booth. Mad is an insufficient description for what I feel toward you right now."

"I know. That's why I sent the flowers. Well, that wasn't all, but Bones… can we go somewhere and talk? I will explain how sorry I am… about everything."

"No. Your disregard for me as a friend and a partner was demonstrated clearly by your actions. We have nothing further to discuss. Please leave."

"Leave? No! I'm not leaving! I need to talk to you, please… Bones?"

"I have work to do, and I'm certain that you have paperwork piled on your own desk. Please leave."

"Bones… just listen, okay? I asked Frank to keep the flowers down front, but he missed my message. I was going to bring them to you myself. I…."

"Your message! You left Frank a message? So security guards warrant a courtesy call from you, and I don't? That makes everything even more clear. Don't send me any more flowers, Booth."

"Bones, I get that you're angry. I know you're upset. And I really am sorry. Please just listen. Let me explain…."

"I'm not upset with you," she lied. "I'm upset with myself. I'm furious that I was so damned worried about you. I called everyone I thought might know where you were. I was afraid your tumor was back or that you'd gone undercover and put yourself at risk or that you were off somewhere gambling again or that something had happened to Parker or to your grandfather…."

"Oh Bones, I'm sorry… I didn't stop to think that you'd worry. It's not like you to worry."

"Well, I certainly won't make that mistake again. Stop apologizing, Booth. Some things can't be apologized for."

She moved to leave the office and he took a step to block her progress. She was infuriated. She considered kicking him but realized that he might be adept enough to evade her martial arts moves. Still furious, she turned and walked back to the desk and picked up the flowers. Then she threw the large vase directly at his head. He barely dodged it but was temporarily stunned by the breaking of the glass and the near explosion of water and glass shards and flowers behind him. In his surprise, he was momentarily unable to react. Taking advantage of his pause, Temperance rushed past him and opened the door, ignoring the stares of her colleagues who had come out to find out the source of the loud crash in her office.

Tiptoeing through the glass and water and broken flowers littering the floor around him, Booth followed her out of her office. He didn't notice the onlookers. All he could see was his partner's retreating back.

"Bones! Wait! Please… wait!"

She only walked more quickly away from him.

Cursing but determined to follow her, Booth broke into a run. When he finally caught up to her and yanked hard on her elbow to make her stop, he was stunned by the anger on her tear-stained face.

"Bones, I really am sorry. But you've gotta let me explain. Let's go to the diner or to Founding Fathers. Let's get out of here and talk. We can go wherever you want."

"What. I. Want," she growled as she stepped closer to him so that she could jab an angry finger at his chest, "Is for you to leave me the hell alone!" She took both hands and shoved his chest. He took a step backward from the force but rallied quickly to retain his balance.

They were far past the point of hiding this argument from anyone blocks away much less the crowd of interested bystanders now lining the hallways at the Jeffersonian. Neither of them noticed Hodgins and Wendell moving most people quietly back to their workspaces. As far as either of them was concerned, this argument-like so much of their years of bickering-could have been unfolding just between them.

He took a step closer. "No," he said defiantly. He watched the flames light up her eyes.

"Fine! I'll leave. _**I'll**_ leave _**you**_ the hell alone. As long as you and I are not in the same place at the same time."

She moved closer to the exit—down in the hallway that led to the lobby. She'd really just been trying to move farther away from him. She hadn't noticed that she'd actually given them substantially more privacy by taking those steps. He ran around in front of her determined to make her stay, "No, dammit! We're having this discussion Bones. And we're having it now."

"There's nothing for us to discuss, Booth. What the hell do you want? Why won't you just leave me alone!"

He took another step toward her and looked down at her furious expression. She'd never looked more beautiful. "We've waited too damned long already. A year ago, I watched you walk away and I left, too. Two months ago, I turned my back on you for the wrong reasons. I'm tired of leaving you alone because it's the wrong thing to do. I won't leave…. Because I love you, Temperance."

He watched as she shrank back as if his words had stung her physically. Tears fell, but she refused to say anything to him. How dare he say something so private and personal in the middle of her workspace. He had no right….

Before she could leave or form an argument, a now emboldened Booth stepped toward her again and said the truly unthinkable to her, "And I know that you love me, too, Bones. So I can't leave you alone. Not until we're okay. Not until we work this out. Not anymore. Not this time."

_It's never too far, it's never too late  
To tell someone "you're the only one"  
_

The slap of her palm against his cheek was eerily familiar. As she had the last time she'd hit him, she turned and stormed away in anger. As he had before, he stood there watching her and wondering how things had gotten so completely out of hand. He stood there, Sweets' words that they'd missed their chance after that first case and that they'd spent all the time since torturing one another reverberating in his mind. He'd gambled again and lost.


	7. Chapter 7

_**[A/N: Thanks for trudging through this story. Not thrilled with this ending, but it's time to tuck this story away in the stack of finished ones. This story was particularly fun to write, and your reviews made it doubly enjoyable to post. Thanks for keeping me in line and for pumping my ego up way more than was necessary. You guys are a credit to reviewers everywhere. You could teach lessons.**_

_**I really want to thank **__**blindassasin**__** once more for the time she spent reading and making suggestions about most of this story. Don't blame her for the angst (that's all me)—but please give her due credit for improving its packaging!**_

_**I want to go on record as saying that I would **__**never**__** intentionally copy anyone else's story. I read too many fanfics, and I worry that sometimes I might inadvertently "borrow" something. If I ever do that from your story, please tell me so that I can edit mine or acknowledge your story as inspiration. That said, if anything here or elsewhere sounds too close to something you wrote, let me know. Sometimes going back and re-reading my own drafts, I start to wonder if something I wrote had been somewhere else instead of in my own story. I'd never to that on purpose.**_

_**I don't own Bones, but I can't wait to see what the show does "post-Doctor in the Photo." I don't own the song "Try" either, but I highly recommend that you all go buy it. Hope this chapter FINALLY answers any nagging, cliffy questions—at least you'll find out what was in that box!]**_

Chapter 7

By the time Angela, Cam and Sweets had rushed forward, Booth had already started for the door and waved them off. He appreciated their unsolicited support, but he didn't need a pep talk. He didn't need any encouragement. The only thing… the only person he needed was the one hell-bent on running out that door.

"She took a right," Frank yelled to Booth as he raced toward the outer doors of the building. Not breaking his stride, Booth ran outside and down the steps and looked down the sidewalk trying to find Bones in the crowds of tourists and of locals traversing town. As he'd expected, she was striding angrily down the street without a jacket or any other protection from the winter's blustery cold.

Not bothering to put on his own jacket and too caught up in his thoughts to feel the cold attempting to seep into his body, Booth swallowed hard and slowed his pace a bit so that he could collect his thoughts and figure out what the hell he could say to her that wouldn't cause her to assault him again. Despite the stinging in his cheek that was certain to leave a bruise, he half-smiled at the memory of chasing Bones like this that day years ago when he'd had her detained at the airport so that he could entice her to work that second case with him. Performing surveillance by rote, he watched his target and adjusted his pace. His long legs made it fairly easy for him to keep up with most people, but he'd learned long ago that chasing "angry Bones" required more effort.

By the time she reached the middle of the mall, he'd closed the gap between them. He knew that she had long since realized he was chasing her because she had adamantly refused to slow down—even for traffic and crowds of small children. He'd called out to her a few times, but she had pretended not to hear. He didn't let that deter him.

As she walked nearer the edge of the reflecting pool, he jogged up so that he was walking beside her. She whirled on him instantly, angry and ready to tell him why, "How dare you!"

"Bones."

"How dare you say those things in my place of employment—in front of my colleagues and my friends!"

"But it's the truth, Bones. We've avoided the truth for too long."

"What do you know about the truth? You manipulate the truth to your own purposes. You've shown me that the truth about emotional matters is much less important than scientific or mathematic or other truths. Emotional truths don't really matter. They can be avoided and overcome or forgotten when one moves on. But the real truth is that you had no business sharing those things in public!"

"Bones, I screwed that and everything else up, okay? Will you just let me apologize for all of it? Will you just listen to me?"

"Why… why Booth? Why should I listen to you? Listening to you and believing what you say only causes me pain. You tell me love lasts forever and then you move on. You tell me you love me but that you can't be with me. You send me flowers and then leave the country to renew your commitment to the woman you really love. You don't even tell me where you're going or if you're okay. I was afraid something was wrong. I worried for days. I hate you… I hate you for making me care what happens to you when you obviously don't care what happens to me!"

With that, she turned and walked the rest of the length of the reflecting pool alone. He stood there for a long moment watching her before following along worrying that he'd finally pushed her so far away he'd never get another chance. He hadn't seen her this angry since that day at his fake funeral—when Sweets had decided not to tell her he hadn't really been dead.

When he reached her again, she stopped and the energy seemed to leak out of her completely. After staring at him for a long moment, she turned and walked over to the nearest bench and sat down, dropping her head into her hands. Terrified to see Bones refusing to fight but not even considering giving up, Booth sat down on the other end of the bench and looked over at her. Not having any idea where to begin, he blurted what popped into his head first. "Bones… You know how much I care about you. I care about you more than anyone else." When she did not look up at him, he sighed and tried to explain recent events. His voice sounded weary in his own ears; he felt the exhaustion of the last three days hit him and fought past it to talk to her, "I got home that night… Valentine's night… and I opened the package you'd delivered for Hannah."

_Booth had swallowed hard and tried not to recognize what was in the box immediately. Inside the shirt box was an olive green oversized shirt—one that looked like a lightweight military style jacket. It was an exact duplicate of the shirt he'd worn the night that crazy Pam had shot him… the night he'd taken a bullet for Bones. He'd never told Bones that he'd kept it. The bullet had entered his t-shirt and not torn the fabric of the shirt he'd worn over it, but Bones had eventually stripped that shirt off his uninjured shoulder and slipped it under and around him to use as a compress to try to stop his bleeding. Afterward, instead of discarding it, he'd scrubbed that shirt over and over again trying to erase the evidence of her handprints trying to save him from his injury. Finally convinced that he could not remove the stains, he'd hung it up in the back of his closet. He hadn't known at the time why he'd been unable to part with it. Yet to him that shirt had become a visible sign of their commitment—of the lengths each would go to save the other._

_Hannah had commented on the shirt once when she'd seen it in the back of the closet, but he'd not said much aside from asking her not to throw it away. But now seeing a new, unstained version of that shirt available to him as a gift shook Booth to his core. _

_Hannah was offering him a replacement. _

_He'd never wanted one. He still didn't. He didn't want the new, perfect, unstained relationship he'd been building with Hannah. That's why he'd been subconsciously pushing her away these last few weeks. He wanted what he'd always wanted. He wanted to be with Bones. Seeing that shirt reminded him of the way that he'd moved without thinking, drawing his gun and putting himself in front of that bullet to save the woman he loved. It was a gesture of love as much as protection; he'd have done it a hundred times over without even caring if he lived or died as long as she was okay. He was also reminded of the way Cam had told him that Bones had grabbed his gun and taken a life without flinching in order to save him, to save them. Sure, he loved Hannah, he'd even saved her once, too, but this new shirt he did not want reminded him all too clearly that some things cannot be replaced. _

_Sometimes the original was worth more than any shiny new replacement that showed no signs of wear. Sometimes there was an extraordinary beauty in the knicks and the scratches and even the holes or the stains or the handprints on something well worn and enduring. To him the stains on that shirt were symbolic of the pieces of themselves they'd invested—they reminded him of where he and Bones had been and, more importantly, with whom they had experienced the things that really mattered. As that reality sank in, he considered for the first time in far too long that sometimes it was possible to feel overwhelming love even when two people had pretended that it hadn't been enough… that it still wasn't everything they needed._

_After thinking about his feelings and finally deciding to act upon them, Booth had called the airline, booked a ticket that cleaned out his bank account, and packed two bags. One had held his passport, a few changes of clothing and his travel-sized hair products. The other had held most of Hannah's other belongings. He'd ship the rest to her later._

_He'd flown out on the first flight to Jordan to break up with Hannah in person. He wasn't completely noble in that decision. He had felt compelled to let her know immediately that their relationship wasn't going to work. He simply had known that he could not wait until her return to put an end to their relationship. Hannah deserved the truth from him in person, and he had to end things with her as soon as possible and go back and fight like hell for what he wanted… what he'd always wanted… with Bones. Waiting one second more than was necessary was no longer an option._

"I just couldn't wait, Bones. I know I should have called you, but I had to do everything I could to get there and back to you as fast as possible. I didn't want that new shirt. I didn't want to replace what I already had…."

"I rushed out planning to find Hannah as soon as we landed, but I was detained at the airport. They wouldn't issue me a visa. With my military training and sniper experience, they were suspicious about my last-minute nongovernment trip. They thought I was a mercenary hired to come in and make a hit. I spent hours begging the embassy to cut through the red tape, but it didn't work."

"I finally called Hannah and asked her to come to the airport. When she did, I told her that I couldn't be with her anymore. She cried. Hannah… Hell, I didn't even know she could cry. But she did. She tried to convince me to change my mind until I told her that I was… that I am… in love with my partner." He paused only long enough to watch his words register with Bones. Then he jumped right back in to finish that part of the story, "When I was honest with her about my feelings for you, Bones, Hannah stopped fighting it. She looked resigned—as if she should have been expecting to hear me say that I was in love with you."

"She wished us happiness, Bones. She was sad, but she really meant it. I went straight back through security and flew back on the first flight I could get on. I called and ordered the flowers just before my first flight took off. I wanted to call you, but I didn't know if you'd take my call or what I'd say to you with only minutes to talk."

His partner just sat there processing what he was saying. He gulped when he saw her staring over at him. At least she was listening. He stood up and walked a few paces away and then turned back to face her. God, he loved this woman. Knowing that she doubted that fact was turning him inside out.

"I am, you know. I'm in love with you. Nobody else. It's always been just you and me and us… what's ours." Pleading with her with his eyes to listen to him, Booth held up the jacket—the original one still stained with the blood he'd lost protecting her. "I don't want to move on. I don't want anything or anyone new. I never did. I was a fool to even try. There is no replacement. There never could be. You're it for me, Bones."

She just stared at him miserably. God, he wasn't getting through to her. He couldn't pour his heart out and have her reject it out of fear—not again. Afraid this was really his last chance, he opted to go alpha-male and get in her face instead of groveling, "I… I'm not taking no as an answer from you this time. We've wasted too much time, Bones. It's time we stopped pretending either one of us can be happy while the other is somewhere else, with someone else, trying to be happy without the other partner."

Suddenly emotional, he looked down at the shirt still clutched tightly in his hand. Smiling in amusement at himself and in hope he'd almost given up his tight hold on, he looked up at her and held the shirt out toward her again hoping she could see what a symbol it had become, "I carried this stained shirt halfway around the world and back just to feel closer to you while I was away. Just to remind me that what we have is real and that it will last—no matter how much we've screwed it up and no matter how many times we've pretended that we didn't still want it. I'm not that big a sap for anyone but you, Bones."

_And even if it's hard, it's never goodbye  
If you love someone, then you try try  
Then you try_

He watched her struggle. He could see how hard she was trying to stay angry with him. He knew this was too much—far too much information, far too public, far too dramatic, far too late—but he couldn't make himself care. He had a clear vision of the way things were supposed to be now, and he could only be so patient waiting for her to catch up with him and share that vision.

As usual, she caught on and caught up quickly, "So what do you mean, Booth?"

"We are going to give this… give us… a try. It means you need to trust me, Temperance. I'm not leaving. I'm here to stay. And you're the one I wanna stay with."

She wanted to believe him, but her heart was trembling with fear, "What about what I want? What if I've moved on? What if I don't want what you want?"

_And even if it's hard, it's never goodbye  
If you love someone, then you try try try  
Don't throw us away just because we're broken  
'Cause anything can mend_

He'd expected as much. She wanted to know what he'd do if she refused him—if he'd just move on again.

"Have you, Bones? Have you really moved on? You're the scientist here. You tell me. Show me the evidence. Did I miss my chance…? Have we missed our chance?"

Tears filled her eyes afresh. She wanted to believe him, but she couldn't imagine that it could be that easy—that she could just give in and have what she'd wanted so desperately for far too long.

He felt nauseated. He'd thought she'd listen. He nearly panicked, afraid this would be yet another disaster—perhaps the one that drove them apart. In his frustration, he squeezed his fists more tightly and felt the fabric he hadn't let out of his sight for days. Yet again through contact with that tactile reminder of such a poignant memory, he was grounded, and he knew he had to reach her wherever she was at that moment, "Bones… If you're not ready… If you need more time, then I'll wait until you're ready, too. I will wait as long as you need. We can fix this, Bones. I promise I'll wait if that's what you want, but I really don't want to wait, Bones. We've waited too damned long already."

It was her turn to stand up and walk away. She walked a few steps down the path and stood with her arms crossed tightly across her body as if to shield her incredibly fragile heart.

When she found her voice, it was angry, "So you expect me to just accept your terms and what you're offering? Just like that? Just because _**you've **_decided?" she asked as she snapped her fingers once loudly for emphasis.

His heart beat even more loudly realizing that the words he said next might change his whole life.

"Yes."

"Yes? Yes? You're an arrogant man, Seeley Booth!"

"That's just one more reason you're perfect for me, Bones. I can't ever feel arrogant for long with you around to humble me."

She whirled on him, anger flashing in those eyes that held him captive, "Stop trying to placate me, Booth. And stop ordering me to jump just because you finally made a decision!"

"I don't want to fight with you, Bones. Can't we talk? Won't you talk to me about this?"

She'd been ready for him to get in her face. She was accustomed to arguing with Booth—sometimes violently. She'd been unprepared for tenderness and pleading. Booth could be tender, she knew, but he typically whined or cajoled or nagged or misdirected when he wanted something. This sincere plea from him deflated her anger better than he had hoped. She didn't feel equipped to sit and talk to Booth about this. There was no way to hide her upheaval and emotional imbalance from him. She'd be too raw and too exposed.

She walked away from him again, but he followed her. He wasn't going to stop following her—not now, not ever.

"I'm not asking you to do anything too quickly, Bones. Six years is glacially slow—even for us. You're the scientific, logical one. What if you and I… what if we can't evolve any more without each other? We've both hurt each other, and we've both tried to move on, and it isn't working. What if the only way we can adapt and evolve is to do that together? And if we're going to do that, I think logic would dictate that we just cut the crap and give this a shot… give us a damned good shot by admitting that the evidence is all in and that we need each other."

Out of breath physically and metaphorically, he looked at her, hoping against hope she was really listening and that his attempt at a somewhat squinty explanation would ring true for her.

She stared at him as if scrutinizing his features might provide her with more evidence about the workings of his heart. He was infuriating. He'd hurt her so badly. He seemed intent on shattering her pride and her self-control and her ability to stay sane and still work with him. He'd opened her up and made her suffer terribly for it. She should hate him. Part of her hated him.

But far more than that she loved him. It was illogical and risky, but it was true. As she took in the shadow of his unshaven beard and noticed afresh the fact that he looked as if he'd worn those clothes for days and as she saw plainly the fear in his eyes as he waited for her to say something… anything…, she knew. As frustrating as he was, as difficult as he'd made things for them, as terrified as she was that she'd fail him or he'd hurt her or that they'd do something to put an end to the partnership she valued above nearly all else, she knew. Fighting with Booth and being hurt by Booth was far better than being alone or than spending time with anyone else.

Only he would try to use logic to explain the illogical way they seemed bound to one another—and to do it for her benefit. He'd broken up with a woman he loved for her. He'd saved that shirt she'd actually prayed would help save him so long ago. He'd stayed and been her partner even when doing so had made him feel the way she'd felt lately. He loved her despite all her faults. And she loved him because of his.

He was stunned to see the faintest glimmer of hope finally start shining in her expression. _Well, I'll be damned_, he thought as he finally closed the gap between them.

They stood about an arm's length apart regarding each other for a long moment. Then, he pulled her into a hug and held her tightly for a long time. Neither noticed the cold or the people around them. Each only held onto the person treasured more than any other.

Eventually, he pulled back to look into her eyes and found them sparkling and quite happy for the first time in… forever. He thought he'd burst from sheer happiness.

Tears of relief and of affection streaming, she smiled up at him and said, "What you said is entirely logical, Booth."

"It is?" he asked as he tenderly wiped stray tears from her beautiful cheekbones with the pads of his thumbs.

"Yes. It would seem that you and I need to adapt. I… I have found myself unable to stop regretting my decision not to pursue a relationship with you last year. Given another opportunity, I think it would be foolish of me not to pursue it."

"Did you just say out loud that I'm right AND that you'll give this… give us a shot?" he asked, the earliest glimmers of a cocky grin shining in his expression.

"Yes," she whispered, taking note of the instantaneous change in her partner's stance and posture. He hugged her again, and she couldn't resist teasing him as he did so. "Of course, my judgment may be impaired. It appears that my neurotransmitter receptors become quite overloaded with hormones when you speak to me about science and logic."

He laughed out loud. Inspired by her humor and the hope it inspired in him, he spoke loudly to her and to the coffee cart vendor who had been watching the whole exchange and to Angela, Cam, and Sweets who had stumbled down after them and had failed miserably to hide behind some shrubs nearby and to anyone else who happened to be within sight or hearing. He spread his arms wide and spun around crazily a few times, exclaiming loudly, "I'm calling a mulligan!"

"Why on Earth would you call an Irish relative at a moment like this?" Temperance asked as he spun into her and crushed his lips to hers. For once, she forgot all about her unanswered question as Booth's tender touch and his able kissing answered all of the other questions she'd wondered about for so long.

She catalogued the evidence as she dismissed all her doubts and fears one by one.

Yes, they really loved one another the way that Booth wanted. When he kissed her, really kissed her without fear, without desperation, without intoxication, she really did feel as if those things he said about fate and magic and lovemaking and love that lasted might be possible.

Yes, he needed to be with her as much as she ached to be with him. As he cradled her head gently in his hands and caressed her lips apart so that he could explore her warm waiting mouth with his tongue, she felt adored, respected, and very much loved. She also felt him tremble with the realization that they were finally crossing that unnecessary line and that they'd never look back.

Yes, they were meant to share far more than just friendship and partnership; they were meant to be together as a man and a woman intimately. As he slipped his hands lower and around her waist and pulled her body flush against his muscular one, her body informed her brain that she craved him physically as much as she'd ever treasured their friendship. When he held her so possessively and her body responded to his strength and attractiveness and skill with more and more desire for him, she believed that the laws of physics might really not be strong enough to contain the heat and the raw need that now flowed so freely between them.

Yes, this flawed, imperfect relationship was sturdy and reliable enough for her to trust it—she could trust him with all this and more. They might make mistakes, but they were their mistakes and they'd work through them. As he pulled back to look down at her and evaluate how she felt about that kiss, she tugged him back to take him under once again. She now knew that they were true partners, equals, best friends, and soon-to-be lovers. She was no longer afraid to consider that it would be worth risking her heart to share such a deep and profound connection with this man who held her so close. They were already connected. They always had been. Without realizing it, she'd given him her heart years before. She couldn't imagine trying to do without him any longer.

Yes, she truly loved him enough; she could be enough for him. As he pulled away again to hold her chin tenderly in his hand and to whisper to her that he loved her… that he'd always love her, she knew that she loved him just as much. She pulled his lips back down to hers and molded her body to his. They fit perfectly. She'd always suspected that they would. She now had physical evidence… and that realization made her laugh out loud. The low rumble in Booth's chest as he responded to her laughter and pressed her even closer told her that he had uncovered that same evidence as well.

No, she would not spend her life haunted by past mistakes and intolerable regrets. Now that she was satisfying part of her emotional longing for him and building more and more intimacy and physical need for him, she knew that she would no longer have any regrets. She felt a peace and a relief—this was the right decision. She only had that type of clarity when she'd made an incontrovertible decision about something. No matter how things turned out for them down the road, somehow she simply knew that becoming something more than just partners with Booth—by finally giving in to the seemingly unstoppable attraction and life-altering friendship that bound them tightly together against the odds, neither one of them would regret taking that step and trying to give them a chance at happiness and a future together.

Lost in one another and dizzy from epinephrine and other chemicals whose names she would now have great difficulty reciting, the partners stood there as if time had been suspended. They ignored their stunned but happy friends who were looking on excitedly as they discussed what was happening with the now-grinning coffee cart vendor. Those who knew them and quite a few who did not watched in amazement as the pair intimately exchanged more tender words, shared affectionate and passionate touches, and reveled in finally being together without any barrier or restriction.

Eventually they turned to walk back toward their friends, and Booth put an arm around her shoulder to pull her close. He planted a kiss in her hair and relished the fact that he now had permission to do that and so many other things he'd longed to do for years.

Just before they got close enough to be mobbed by the eager people still watching them noticeably from a safe but quite noisy distance, Booth stopped and turned to face the woman of his dreams. "What? What's wrong, Booth?"

"Nothing's wrong. Nothing may ever be wrong again, Bones," he said with a genuinely happy smile. "But I do have a question for you."

"Okay. What is it?" she asked, concern still tempering her expression.

"Bones… Temperance…," he said, enjoying the feel of her given name on his tongue spoken in adoration instead of sympathy or comfort. He'd screwed this up the last time, but he was going to correct those mistakes for what he hoped would be the final time around. He took her hands gently in his and looked down at her adoringly, "I want to be clear this time. I'm asking you to be my girlfriend. I want to date only you, I want to take you out dancing and to movies. I want to kiss you, cook for you, work with you, tease you, make out with you, make love to you…. I want so much more than that, but I can be patient. What I'm asking is for you to try to commit to me… to us. Because that's what I'm doing here. I know that's huge and that you might need some time for all of it, but will you give it a try? Will you finally try being my girlfriend?"

Surprising him, she avoided complaining about the term or asking questions about what it meant. Instead, she launched herself into his arms and kissed him with a ferocity that sent both of them staggering backwards a few steps.

"I'll take that as a yes," he mumbled into her mouth before kissing her even more deeply.

The End.

_**[A/N: Hugs to you all for making it through. Hope this brought a bit of enjoyment along with the agony and angst I can't seem to contain. Thank you all so much for reading! **_

_**If you're reading this long after it was posted and you enjoyed it, I'd really appreciate your taking a moment to let me know your thoughts about what you read—even if you want to yell at me for torturing you! Thanks again! ~ MiseryMaker]**_


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